


Unlawful

by MusicReject



Series: 1960s [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 1960s New York City, 1960s!AU, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Angst, Basically some people are lawyers, F/F, F/M, Festivals, Fluff, Hippie!Hercules Mulligan, Hippie!John Laurens, Hippie!Lafayette, Hurt/Comfort, I'm a sucker for all things history, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Period-Typical Homophobia, Riots, Vietnam War, Violence doesn't happen until later, and the 1960s is interesting, but feel free to picture whomever you want, draft burnings, original broadway cast, quite a bit of historical things actually, some are hippies, there are more things that happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 50,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8293163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicReject/pseuds/MusicReject
Summary: It's the 1960s in New York City. John Laurens is a free loving artist who longs to show the world that everything will be okay. Alexander Hamilton is a lawyer who wants to change the world. They aren't exactly different. They meet. 
They change as the world changes around them. 
-------or the 1960s AU that no one asked for.





	1. There’s Nothing like Summer (Spring!) in the City

**Author's Note:**

> Titled supplied by my best friend :)  
> Please excuse any mistakes, this is unbetad (or however that's spelled). I'm too nervous to have any friends check for mistakes.  
> Enjoy!

Alexander Hamilton rushed through the city streets, feet pounding against the burning concrete as he struggled to close his briefcase.

 Yes, it’s summer in New York City. The greatest city in the world, one could say. One did say actually. “The one” being Elizabeth Schuyler; Alexander’s ex-girlfriend and current best friend.  

 The date is June 14. June 14, 1966, to be exact. A _hot_ , at 90 degrees Fahrenheit, June 14, 1966, to be even more exact. And our, precious, Alexander Hamilton is a bit behind schedule. Well, it’s not _his_ fault that he’s behind schedule. It’s just that the Supreme Court had to announce their ruling on Miranda v. Arizona yesterday and, if he wanted to be promoted to partner, he has to have his report in today. So, he stayed up all night writing his 40-page, “didn’t you say what was important, sir?”, report on the landmark case.

Okay, maybe it _is_ his fault that he's late.

 Now here he is, jumping over dogs, swerving around children whilst trying to keep his worn down briefcase closed just to make it work on time. He should have been there, he glances at his watch, thirty seconds ago if he wanted to make it there before Washington.

He stops for a second, hands on his knees, to catch his breath.

Just as he stands to leave, a hand grabs his shoulder.

He whirls around to be greeted with curly hair and a bright grin, “Hi! You dropped these.”

“What?” he asks. Confused would be putting it mildly.

The man in question holds up a stack of paper, “you dropped these papers? Well, more like they flew out of your briefcase but they seemed important and I didn’t want you to not have them.”

Alexander watches in surprise as the man bends down to pick up another paper that jumped from his briefcase to join its brethren in the man’s hands.

“I didn’t read them, if you’re worried,” the man says as he hands the pages to Alexander.

Alexander shakes his head and puts the papers back in his briefcase, “that’s fine. They’re just about Miranda v. Arizona.” He pauses at the man’s confused look, “Miranda v. Arizona? That court case about the fifth amendment?”

The man holds up in his hands in surrender and grins, “hey man, my father has always paid more attention to law than me.” He sticks out a paint splattered hand, “I’m John Laurens.”

Alexander grasps, and shakes, his hand, “Alexander Hamilton.” He finally takes a good look at the man in front of him, “ _John Laurens_ ,” his mind supplies helpfully. John Laurens wears paint splattered bellbottoms, a loose-fitting white shirt, and an opened brown vest. Instead of buttons, the vest has dandelions poking out of the holes.

Alexander quickly pulls his hand away, feeling strangely overdressed as he takes in the appearance of the man.

“Here, let me,” John says, sticking out his hand again and gesturing to the, still open, briefcase.

Alexander sends him a suspicious glance before reluctantly handing his briefcase over, “I don’t know what you’re going to do. It hasn’t closed all morn-” he stops as John closes the briefcase and hands it over. “How did you do that?”

John shrugs and smiles again, “Just needed some TLC. Plus there was some fabric caught in the clasp.”

Alexander looks down at his wrist and sees a tear in the white fabric of his shirt, “are you fucking kidding me?”

John lets out a startled laugh, “hey, it’s just a tear. If you need help fixing it, my friend Hercules is a great tailor. He could totally fix it for you.”

Alexander stares at John with wide eyes, “but I’m a lawyer. I have to be respectable, I can’t just walk around the office with a tear in my sleeve.”

John takes pity on the frantic man in front of him and digs into his pocket, “hold on, I can probably fix that too.” He pulls out a handful of various items, “ah-ha! Here it is.” He shoves the rest of the items into his pocket, “hold out your arm, Alexander Hamilton.”

Alexander dutifully does so, “you can just call me Alexander, or Alex.” He says as he watches John push the pin through one end of the tear and into the other before attaching it to the inside of his jacket.

“Well, Alexander. You should be good to go,” John says, pushing Alexander’s sleeve up then pulling it back down, “your white sleeve shouldn’t come out of your jacket for the rest of the day. Now no one can see the tear and your secret is safe with me.”

Alexander lets his arm fall back to his side, “do you need the pin back?”

John shrugs and, even though he really doesn’t, says, “Yeah, I do. We’ll be at Sheep Meadow in Central Park for most of the day and, when you come by, Hercules can fix the tear.”

“How do you know I’ll stop by?”

“I trust you, Alexander,” John says, smiling at Alex before shoving his hands in his pockets.

Alexander smiles and, despite himself, nods, “I’ll be there.”

John’s smile widens and he leans forward, tucking something behind Alexander’s ear, “It’s a dandelion, Alexander. Don’t panic,” he says at Alexander’s wide eyed look. “Have a great summer!” He calls as he turns and walks away.

“Summer doesn’t start until June 21!” Alexander shouts back.

John laughs and tosses a piece sign up over his shoulder before turning the corner, out of Alexander’s sight.

Maybe Alexander doesn’t mind calling late Spring, Summer.

….

Never mind, he still does.

He glances at his watch and takes off.

 

“I’m so sorry for being late, sir!” He shouts and he throws the door open and barges into the office.

Washington jumps and almost drops his coffee. Turning around he says, “son, I just got here. No one else has even arrived yet. You’re far from late.”

Alexander nods, “with all due respect sir, I’m normally get here about an hour ago. And speaking of late,” he sets his briefcase on his desk, opens it, and grabs the stack of papers, “here’s the report on Miranda v. Arizona.”

Washington takes the report with wide eyes, “Alexander, they just announced this decision last night. I wasn’t expecting any reports for another week.” He looks closely at the stack, “how many pages is this?”

“Well, sir,” Alexander says, straightening his posture, “you’ve never worked with Alexander Hamilton. Also, it’s 40 pages.”

Washington chuckles, already feeling a fondness for this hardworking man, “alright, son. Any particular reason why it’s 40 pages?”

“Didn’t you say what was important, sir?” Alexander asks, confused for the second time that morning.

 

The morning passed by quickly enough with everyone throwing themselves into the decision of Miranda v. Arizona as it affected parts of their jobs.

Nearly forgetting the strange man from this morning, the cool metal pressed against Alexander’s wrist and he remembered.

 

“Angelica,” Alexander said, coming up to stand beside her at the coffee maker, “you’ll never believe what happened this morning.”

“Did you get abducted by aliens? Because you’re too energetic for this early,” Angelica replies, staring forlornly at her empty coffee cup.

“It’s one in the afternoon, Ange,” he states, setting his own cup on the counter and crossing his arms, “anyway no. That’s not what happened.”

“Did you wake up to an announcement that a woman was finally running for president?”

Alexander frowns and shakes his head, “No, but I wish that there was.”

“I’m going to run for president, Alexander. Just you wait,” she says, daring him to challenge her.

“You definitely have my vote, Angelica. You’d make a great president. Can I please tell you what happened this morning?” Alexander says, staring at her with pleading eyes.

She waves her hand, “go for it, Alexander.” She turns to face him and leans against the countertop, “I’m listening.”

So he recounts his tale about meeting John Laurens. Starting with the court decision and ending with scaring George Washington. By the end, they’ve drank four cups of coffee each, moved from standing by the counter to sitting at the table in the breakroom, and gone over the hour long lunch break.

“That’s not even all of it, Angelica. I’m entirely confused about who this man is. He didn’t seem to know anything about these court cases and he mentioned his father knew more about law than he did. I mean, his last name did sound familiar but he was covered in paint and flowers _and_ was spending the day in the park so it can’t be who I’m thinking of. That man would never allow his children to be like that,” Alexander finishes and finally takes a deep breath.

Angelica nods slowly, “if I remember correctly, Senator Laurens oldest child was a son he stopped talking about a few years ago. Maybe that’s him?”

“It doesn’t seem likely. They’re just too different,” Alexander states, setting down his coffee cup and leaning back in the chair. “It’s possible though.”

“Aren’t you meeting him later in the park?”

“I believe so,” Alexander replies, shrugging uncertainly.

“Just ask him then,” she states nonchalantly, laughing at the noise he makes in response.

“I can’t just ask if he’s related to Senator Laurens. He’ll probably take it as an insult! I would,” Alexander practically shouts.

“Alexander, you take everything as an insult,” the laughing woman says in response, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you tried fighting this coffee cup.”

“That’s not the point,” Alexander says, getting up and refilling both of their coffee cups, “the point is, is that he doesn’t seem bad and I would rather not immediately offend him.”

There was a moment of silence before Angelica speaks up again, “are you still trying to get that partnership?”

Alexander raises an eyebrow, places the cups back on the table, and sits down again, “Absolutely. If you want it, prepare for defeat Schuyler.”

Angelica laughs, “that’s not what I meant. Of course I want it but I have other things on my mind, especially because I’m going to be running for president.” She pauses for a second, “I happened to be near Washington’s office the other day and I heard a few things.”

Alexander immediately sits up, “what things?”

“You’re not going to ask why I was eavesdropping?” Angelica asks, surprised.

Alexander shrugs, “You’re Angelica. Anyway, it’s not important. What did you hear?”

Angelica looks around quickly then leans forward, as does Alexander. Lowering her voice, she says, “it didn’t appear that Washington was in his office, but I heard Burr and Jefferson arguing about the partnership,” she looks around again before leaning in closer, “your name came up.”

Alexander’s eyes widen, “what did they say?”

“They seem to believe that Washington has already offered you the partnership. If he hasn’t already, then they suspect he’ll be offering it soon enough,” she replies, “They’re angry as both of them have been working here longer than you have.” She leaned back into her chair, “I missed the next part because Madison came up to me. I think he knew I was listening but by the time I was finally able to listen in again, Washington was back and they had moved on.”

Alexander leans back in his chair and grins, “Well, as long as they know who the winner will be.”

Angelica laughs and stands up, “I’d say good luck, Alexander but we both know you don’t need it. Anyway, I need to finish my report,” she grabs her coffee cup, “good afternoon, Alex. Have fun with Laurens.” Then she leaves the room.

Alexander raises an eyebrow at her words before picking up his own coffee cup and heading back to work.

 

By the time he finally emerged from his written world, the clock said 7 pm and most of the office was empty. So he grabbed his briefcase, having worn his jacket the entire day, shoved his work inside the case and goes to leave the building.

“Mr. Hamilton,” Washington calls, as he gets on to the elevator so he puts his foot out to stop the door. Washington gets on the elevator and stands next to him, “you’re leaving quite late, sir,” Alexander notes.

George Washington nods, “very observant, son. I was hoping to speak with you before you left the office for the night.”

“What about, sir?”

“Well, as you may know Alexander, there’s a partnership up for grabs in the law firm,” Alexander nods and Washington continues, “there are a few people I have my eye on for this. I’m not at liberty to say who these people are but I can say this: keep up the good work, son.” Washington finishes as the elevator doors open and they disembark.

“Thank you, sir,” Alexander says as they leave the building, “if I happen to be one of those people and you do choose me, you won’t regret it.”

“I don’t doubt that. Have a good night, Alexander,” Washington says as they part ways.

“You as well, sir!” Alexander calls after him before turning and walking to his apartment. He feels the metal of the pin press against his skin again and he pauses. He turns and begins the walk to Central Park.


	2. I Got a Lot of Brains, But No Polish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated on mobile so if the format is weird please let me know! Enjoy!

When Alexander arrives in Sheep Meadow, about twenty minutes later, surprised would not cover the emotion he's feeling. It's late evening and, instead of dying down, the meadow seems to have gotten more crowded.

Groups dot the landscape. Some were passing something amongst themselves, bringing it to their lips and exhaling smoke. He had his suspicions but was too far away to see it clearly.

He wanders around the meadow, dodging requests from various groups to join them, and looked for John. No one fit the mental image Alex had but before he could turn and leave, he spots John in the corner with his own group.

They were seated on faded blankets, surrounded by blades of grass and pairs of shoes. _Wait, pairs of shoes?_ Alexander finally noticed that each person had their shoes off and were either lying on the blanket or leaning against each other.

There was a woman with long curly brown hair, wearing a bright red loose-fitting shirt and shorts, tucking flowers into the curls of one, oblivious, John Laurens. The aforementioned man was staring intently at the hands of a darker skinned man, whose own curls rivaled those of a Greek god, as he strummed the guitar in his lap. The man leaned back against the tree and smiled at John, he seemed to be explaining something as John began nodding, nearly dislodging the flowers in his hair.

Alexander takes a deep breath and begins walking to John’s group. As he gets within earshot he hears the Greek god explaining something about “frets” to John.

John looks up as Alexander gets closer and the smile he receives is bright enough to put the sun to shame.

“Alexander Hamilton!” John shouts joyfully before whispering something to the man next to him, who immediately looks at Alex then winks at John. John rolls his eyes in response before getting up and making his way over to Alexander, “you made it!”

Alexander takes his eyes from the group and rests his gaze on John, “I did. You wanted the pin right?”

John nods, “yeah, but,” he grabs Alexander’s arm and pulls him to the group, “come meet my friends.” John sits back down in his spot and gestures for Alex to take the spot on his other side, “you'll love them.”

Alexander slowly sits next to John and takes in the people surrounding him, “Hello. I'm Alexander Hamilton, or Alex. Alex is fine.”

A broad shouldered man with a bright wide smile, ‘ _Apollo_ ’ Alex decides, nods at him, “we know,” he lets out a laugh, “John hasn't stopped talking about you since this morning.”

Alex glances over at John to see him blushing furiously, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Which is surprising, mon ami,” Alex was becoming more surprised by this group when he heard the French accent, “since your, how you say, _interaction_ was so short.”

There was scattered laughter from the group members, each lost in their own thing. A woman with dreadlocks and a distracted, but sincerely kind, smile was watching a street performer not too far away. The woman in red was braiding daisies into the hair of someone who looked suspiciously like, “Peggy?!” Alexander practically shouts.

She looks up and flashes him a smile, “Hey A Ham. Took you long enough.”

He nods, dazed, and says, “sorry. How have you been? Where have you been?”

She shrugs, “I'm good. I could say the same thing to you, Hamilton,” she crosses her arms, “the only person who sees you anymore is Angelica and that's because you work together.”

He feels a burning flash of guilt, “I'm sorry, Pegs. I know that doesn't cover it but… I'm sorry.”

Peggy nods, causing the girl in red to tug on her hair, “sorry Maria,” she says, wincing. She looks back at Alex, “it's fine. We just worry, Ham. No need to be a stranger.”

He nods quickly, “absolutely. I just… I’ve been busy?” The sentence comes out as a question and he could tell, by her eye roll, that she wasn't accepting his flimsy excuse. There was the sound of someone clearing their throat and Alex looked around to see the group watching the exchange with interest.

“How do you know Peggy?” John asks, speaking up after a moment of no one saying anything.

“She's my best friend’s-”

“Ex-girlfriend’s,” Peggy interrupts with a smirk.

Alex shrugs, “she's my best friend’s, and ex-girlfriend’s,” he sends a look to Peggy, who rolls her eyes for the second time in five minutes, “younger sister.”

“Eliza?” the girl in red, Peggy mentioned the name Maria, supplies.

Alex nods and looks down at his hands, picking at the edges of his nails, “yes. We still love each other, it's hard to not love her, we just weren't _in love_ anymore,” he looks back up, “I don't think we were for awhile.” Peggy reaches out and pats his knee, obviously sensing the, long since been accepted, loneliness that resides in his gaze.

Silence falls over the group before Apollo, Alex really needs to ask their names, speaks up, “well, Alex, I'm Hercules Mulligan.”

‘ _Huh_ ,’ Alex thinks, ‘ _I guess I wasn't too far off_ ,’ before realizing that Hercules is still talking. He misses the last half of Hercules’s sentence because, the moment he tunes back in, introductions start.

“I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette,” the Greek god said, “but, s’il vous plaît, call me Lafayette.”

Alexander nodded, “bonjour, Lafayette, enchanté.” The grin he receives in response shows that he definitely made the right call in responding in French.

“Est-ce que tu parles français?” Lafayette asks, grinning.

“Oui, monsieur, je suis couramment,” Alex feels himself start to smile. He hasn't held an actual conversation in French since leaving Nevis.

Lafayette shakes his head, “non, non ‘monsieur’. Nous sommes amis, s’il vous plaît appelez-moi Lafayette.”

Alexander, much to John’s delight, finally laughs and stands up. He bows and says, “mon ami Lafayette, d’accepter mes sincères excuses pour l’erreur.”

Lafayette stands, returns the bow and, taking pity on the rest of the group, says, “I like you, little Alex. Do, how you say, stick around.” Alex doesn't miss the look Lafayette sends to John, who, with a nearly undetectable shake of his head, ends the silent conversation.

As they sit back down the girl with the kind smile and dreadlocks speaks up, “you already know John. I'm Theodosia Prevost, it's very nice to meet you.”

Alexander smiles in response, “you as well, Theodosia.”

“And I’m Maria. Maria Reynolds,” the girl in red, Maria, says, glancing up at him with a smile before going back to Peggy’s hair.

As the group gets used to Alexander’s presence and go back to their separate conversations, John elbows him lightly in the side, “hey Alexander.”

Alex looks over at the freckled man and smiles, “hey John.”

John looks somewhat nervous as he says, “are you… Do you like-” at a loss for words, he sighs and gestures to the group.

Alex nods quickly, “yes, of course. I mean, I’m a little,” more like severely, “out of my element.”

John frowns but nods understandably, “I understand. You are a lawyer,” John says, attempting to bait Alex into staying longer. It works.

“What do you mean ‘you are a lawyer’?” Alexander asks, crossing his arms after the air quotes.

“You're just so serious,” John replies, shrugging.

“I-I can have fun!” He practically shouts, throwing his hands into the air.

“Well, I didn't say you couldn't,” John states, crossing his arms as a slight smirk plays at his lips, “but now, I guess you're going to have to prove it.”

“I… I-I can-” Alexander sputters before huffing and turning to Lafayette, who was laughing at the exchange, “lafayette, teach me how to play guitar.”

He laughs harder, “mon ami, guitar lessons are not going to prove to John that you can have fun.”

“It could help,” Alex protests.

“Well,” Peggy interrupts, standing up, “whatever you're going to do, can you do it tomorrow? I'd like to be here for it but it's late and I was supposed to be home by sundown.”

Alexander looks around, just realizing how late it is, “oh my god,” but before his panicked thoughts about how much time he's wasting settle in, John places a hand on his arm.

“It's okay,” he says with a smile.

Alex nods hesitantly and takes a deep breath, “I need to get home. I have so much work to do.”

John nods, “of course,” he stands then extends a hand to Alexander, who takes it without a thought, and pulls him up.

Lafayette and Hercules, shoes slipped back on, join them in standing, “we’ll walk you home, Peggy,” Laf says.

“Maria, Theodosia,” Hercules says as he looks back at the girls, “if you don't want to go home, you're more than welcome to join us at the apartment tonight.”

Maria nods, “I'd love to,” she looks over at Theodosia as she puts her shoes back on, “Theo? Are you coming?”

“Absolutely,” Theodosia responds as she slips her shoes on before getting up and following Laf and Herc, who wave at Alex and John, as they leave the park.

John turns to Alex, “I'll walk you home.”

“You don't have to,” Alex protests, eyes widening.

“I know,” he agrees, “but I want to.”

Alexander's inclined to agree so they make their way to Alex’s apartment after John, reluctantly, puts on his shoes.

The walk passes in comfortable silence until they're standing in front of Alexander’s door.

Alexander feels at a loss for words as he stands in front of John, “thank you for uh… walking me home.”

John smiles at him, “no problem, Alexander Hamilton.”

Alex’s hands twitch at his sides as he tries to figure out how to say goodnight. ‘ _A handshake feels too formal_ ,’ Alex thinks to himself, ‘ _but are we-_ ,’ he's pulled from his thoughts as John pulls him into a hug. Warmth surrounds him as he slowly wraps his arms around John, “goodnight Alex.”

Alex nods against John’s shoulder before pulling away, “goodnight John.”

They part ways and Alexander heads inside his apartment. As he goes to take off his jacket, he feels the pull of it being stuck to something and realizes he _never returned the pin_. He runs back to the front door and throws it open, “John!” But he's already gone.

Alexander signs and closes the door again, leaning against it he says aloud to the empty apartment, “I'm returning it tomorrow and then it's done. I don't have to see him again. I won't have a reason to.”

He says that the next day.

And the next day.

And the next day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH TRANSLATIONS  
> s’il vous plaît= please  
> bonjour, Lafayette, enchanté= hello, Lafayette, nice to meet you  
> Est-ce que tu parles français?= you speak French?  
> Oui, monsieur, je suis couramment= yes, sir, I am fluent   
> non, non ‘monsieur’. Nous sommes amis, s’il vous plaît appelez-moi Lafayette= no, no 'sir'. We are friends, please call me Lafayette.   
> mon ami Lafayette, d’accepter mes sincères excuses pour l'erreur= my friend Lafayette, accept my sincere apologies for the error.   
> Please excuse any errors in translations, I may be in French 4 but my French sounds like a toddler.  
> Anyway, sorry for the slow update! I promise that I haven't forgotten about the story. I've checked out books from the library for it and everything. The next chapter is in progress.   
> Let me know what you think! Have a wonderful day/night!!


	3. You Must Be Out of Your Goddamn Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Morgan because she promised me cookies if I updated today. Thanks ^.^

The next few months pass by in a blur of Alex going to work then going to the park to spend time with a group that he, surprisingly, has a lot in common with. In the blink of an eye, it’s November and the winter chill is settling into Alexander’s Caribbean bones.

He’s halfway to the law firm when the shivers began to wrack his body, “It’s not… even that cold,” Alexander says to himself, “I checked… before I left.” While 54 degrees Fahrenheit wasn’t cold to everybody, it’s still colder than what he was used to whilst growing up.

A figure steps out in front of him with curly hair and a paint splattered coat, “h… hello John.”

“Alexander!”

He can hear the smile in John’s voice before he even looks at his face. Alex realizes his eyes are still roaming John’s body so he immediately looks at John’s face, a flash of guilt from _whatever he was doing_ makes him look at the ground instead.

John steps closer and, suddenly, there’s a freckled smiling face in his line of sight. He’s crouched down, face hovering just under Alex’s so that they’re eye-to-eye, “good morning!” 

“You’re going to hurt your back like that,” Alex says worriedly, shooting his hands out to grasp John’s shoulders.

John laughs, the sound sending tingles through Alex’s body, “then look up, Alexander. Let me see your eyes, please.” He stands back up and Alex, reluctantly, looks up to meet his gaze. “There they are,” he says with a grin.

Alex can’t help the eye roll but he smiles nonetheless, “good morning, John.” Another shiver wracks his body.

John’s smile immediately falls away and Alex wants to do whatever it takes to put it back, “are you okay?”

So he nods, “I’m fine.”

John moves closer, as if he pays no mind to personal space or the fact they’re in public, “Alex… are you okay?”

He freezes at the shortened version of his name, “I’m… I’m just cold. Anything below 70 degrees is too cold for me.”

The smile appears again and he steps back to where he was before, Alex breathes a sigh of relief but he’s not sure to what. John looks down at the scarf wrapped around his neck and quickly removes it, “here.”

Alexander quickly shakes his head, “John, I’m not taking your scarf." 

John wraps his scarf around Alex’s neck and tucks the parts that hang down into his coat, “there. I don’t know if it will actually help but it might.” 

Alex sighs in relief as the warm fabric caresses his skin, “it does, thank you.” 

John’s hands haven’t left Alexander’s coat, “hey, Alexander-” he’s cut off by a French accent shouting from across the street, “John! Alexander!” 

Lafayette makes his way over to the pair. His eyes zero in on John’s hands as they rest on Alex’s coat, before he quickly removes them, and his grin gets wider, “petite tortue, have you told petit lion about the, how you say, _change of plans_. 

John shook his head, “not yet, Laf. I was just about to tell him.” He looks back at Alex, “we’re going to be at the Pearl Street Diner, on the corner of Pearl and Fletcher Street, instead of Sheep Meadow. So, meet us there after you get off work.” 

Alex nods absently, mind partially focused on the warmth from John’s hands when they were pressed against his chest. How he felt it through the layers of cloth between them, he’ll never know. “I’ll be there,” he says, before John’s words fully process. 

John’s smile seems to brighten the morning, “perfect! I’ll- we’ll see you there.” At Lafayette’s snicker, John grabs his arm and pulls him down the street, around the corner, and out of Alexander’s sight. 

Alex shakes his head and proceeds down the sidewalk, passing a poster for the Vietnam War as he nears Washington Law. His mind shifts from being lost in thoughts of John, and his slip up, to being lost in thoughts of seeing Washington & Hamilton Law printed on the side of the building. 

He makes his way up to the floor he’s working on, passing an exhausted looking Washington who calls out, “Mr. Hamilton!” 

He halts in his step and turns around, “Mr. Washington, good morning.” 

George Washington nods in response, takes a sip from his steaming mug of coffee, and says, “Did you finish going through the file on the Robles case?” 

“Yes sir,” Alex replied, taking the file out of his briefcase and pulling out his case notes, “I know, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Whitmore is innocent.” 

“I agree,” Washington says, lowering his voice as they traverse across the floor to Washington’s office, “we need to be able to prove, and convince the jury of, Robles’ guilt.” He gestures for Alex to close the door behind him and takes a seat at his desk. He opens his own copy of the file and lays out various documents, “Alex, listen, the courts have wrongfully convicted an innocent man. This was a tough case when they convicted Whitmore, so I can’t say for sure that they jury will be willing to go through the process of trying to convict another man.” 

“I’m fairly certain that the jury won’t leave Whitmore to rot in prison after the evidence came out that proves he didn’t do it, “Alexander says, pointing to the sheet on Washington’s desk containing that information. 

“I know, but,” Washington says as he straightens a picture frame on his desk, “do you understand what I’m saying?” 

“I’m not sure, sir.” 

“There’s going to be a lot of late nights, son. This case is important, we have to get an innocent man out of prison and the guilty man in,” Washington says as he puts the papers back, in order, and snaps the file shut. 

There’s a knock at the office door and Washington calls for them to come in. Angelica Schuyler strolls in and dumps a pile of files on Washington’s desk. “What’s all this?” he questions. 

She crosses her arms, “your old ‘mentor’, George King, mistook me for your secretary and gave me these files. As if women haven’t been in law for years.” 

Washington rubs his temples and sighs, “I will have a word with him.” He looks up at her and gives a tired smile, “please accept my sincerest apologies for his sexism, Miss Schuyler. I will not tolerate my female employees being treated any differently than my male employees.” 

She nods, “Thank you, Mr. Washington. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have case notes to take.” She turns to leave but Washington stops her. 

“Actually, Schuyler, would you be willing to work with Hamilton on the Robles’ case?” he asks her, reaching for another copy of the file. 

“With all due respect, sir, I can handle this case-” Angelica stomps on his foot; he yelps and says, with a slightly higher pitched voice, “I withdraw my previous complaint.” 

“I’d be happy to assist, sir,” she tells Washington, taking the file he hands her as he directs a raised eyebrow at Alex. 

He nods, “thank you.” He starts carefully arranging the pile of files on his desk into alphabetical order and, feeling as if they’ve been dismissed, the pair leaves his office. 

“You do know,” Angelica says, looking over at Alex as they walk, “that him saying ‘work with Hamilton on the so-and-so case’ is him basically saying ‘please make sure Alexander doesn’t work himself to death’, right?” 

Alex rolls his eyes, “I can take care of myself.” 

“Yeah, I’ll believe _that_ when I see it,” Angelica holds open the break room door as they walk in. 

There’s a man by the coffee maker who speaks up when they enter, “good morning, Angelica.” There’s a pause before he speaks up again, “Alexander.” 

“Aaron Burr, sir,” Alex says as pleasantly as he can manage, “you look chipper this morning.” He narrowly avoids another foot stomp from Angelica. 

“Yes, well,” Burr says, stepping away from the counter with coffee cup in hand, “not everyone can stay awake all night and not have it affect them.” 

“Why were you up all night? Is everything okay?” Angelica asks him, stepping forward. 

If he could appear any more guarded he would have, “personal reasons, it’s not any of your concern,” at the glare he receives from Angelica _and_ Alexander, he amends, “personal reasons, thank you for asking.” 

The pair step aside as Burr leaves the room, “he’s acting different,” Angelica observes. 

“He still seems like Burr to me,” Alexander says as he moves towards the coffee maker. 

“Alexander,” Angelica says, following Alexander, “no offense, actually all the offense, you wouldn’t notice a change if it punched you in the face.” 

“Not true!” Alexander responds indignantly, mind flashing back to when John got his hair trimmed and that was all Alex could think about. 

Angelica rolls her eyes but before she could speak, Thomas Jefferson walks into the room and Alexander clenches his fists reflexively. 

“Angelica Schuyler,” he says with a pleasant smile, “it’s wonderful to see you this morning. Your presence has made it better already.” He glances at Alex and his expression shifts, “Hamilton.” 

“Jefferson,” Alex responds, the name falling from his lips like poison. 

“Don’t be so rude to the future partner, Alex,” Jefferson says, looking down at Alexander with disdain. 

Alex feels his eyes widen and his blood boil, “did Washington offer you the position already?” 

“No,” he responds, slipping his coat off, “but I know he will. I’m obviously the best choice.”

Alexander’s quiet for a moment, right eye twitching, before saying, “you must be out of your GODDAMN MIND if you think-” before he can finish, Angelica’s taking him by the arm and dragging him out of the room, “let me at him, Angelica!”

“Normally I would, Alex! But we’re in the office, do you really want Washington to see you punch Jefferson?” Angelica asks him as she pulls him to his desk.

Alex stops struggling to pull from her grasp for a second, which gives Angelica enough time to deposit Alex at his desk and slam the case file down in front him, “get to work, Alex.”

He sighs, nods, and flips open the file, “I could have taken him.”

“I’m sure you could have,” Angelica agrees absently, already sitting at her desk across from Alex’s.

Words die out as they get lost in their respective case work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm sorry this chapter is so short. It was originally much longer but I didn't think it flowed well so I split it into two chapters. Unbetad so please forgive any mistakes! :)
> 
> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> The Robles' Case that I talk about was an actual case! The media dubbed it the 'Career Girls Murders' and it occurred in Manhattan in 1963. Whitmore was wrongfully incarcerated for 1,216 days (1964-1966). Robles was tried, and found guilty, in the autumn of 1965! I'm trying to keep it as factual as possible, except these chapters take place in 1966 so the years are different. 
> 
> I personally don't really like how this story is going, but do let me know what you think! Have a wonderful day/night!! :D


	4. It's Still Dark Outside

Alexander can vaguely feel someone touching his arm. Not to the point where they’re shaking him yet, but they are definitely trying to get his attention. He’s not sure what time it is, or what day it is really, and his hand is beginning to cramp. ‘ _Someone’s saying my name_ ,’ drifts through Alex’s mind but he can’t quite catch it enough to pay attention. Muffled footsteps and whispering and then:

“Hamilton!”

He jumps and whirls around, “Sir!”

George Washington stands tall, barely concealed concerned warming his gaze, and states, “start late nights after the weekend, Alexander. Go home.”

“But sir, it’s Tuesday and I-”

“Go. Home.”

He quickly nods and turns back around to gather his things, jumping again when he sees Angelica standing next to him, “when did you get there?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for ten minutes, Alex,” she says, crossing her arms.

“Oh,” his face flushes. Washington clears his throat and Alexander scrambles to gather his things. He bolts out of the building with laughing Angelica following closely behind.

As they exit the sprawling skyscraper, Angelica speaks up, “hey, Alex. Do you need a ride home? We’re going the same way.”

He shakes his head in response, “no, I feel like walking.”

“Alright, if you say so,” she replies, trailing off as she watches Alex turn towards Lower Manhattan, the _wrong way_ from his apartment. “Wait, where are you going? Don’t you live up on East 69 th?” She asks him, motioning behind her with her thumb.

Alex freezes, “I have… something… that I need to do.”

She nods slowly, eyes narrowing, “right. Be careful, Alex. “

“You two, Ange,” he replies before quickly walking off. He makes sure he’s well out of her sight, even though she probably already left, before hailing a taxi. Alex knows Manhattan and, while he loves walking, he doesn’t want to walk for an hour and a half. Though he’d do worse for John- his friends, if they asked him.

 

* * *

 

As he exits the taxi, thirty minute later, the chill penetrates his worn down, and well loved, coat. He stares up at the diner if front of him, the neon sign lighting up the sidewalk and casting a glow on his exposed face. Alex takes a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and exhales; his breath causing a cloud in front of him. ‘ _Like a dragon_ ,’ he thinks, chuckling as he watches the clouds of breath form from every exhalation.

Alex is stalling, and he knows it. If he can survive deaths, a hurricane, leaving the Caribbean, and surviving college alone then he can walk into a fucking diner. He squares his shoulders and pushes the door open, the bell rings and he’s hit with a blast of warm air and strong coffee. His stomach rumbles, reminding Alex that he hasn’t eaten since John shoved an apple into his hands last night. He scans the crowded diner, fingers rubbing the ends of John’s scarf, for the group he’s grown somewhat attached to over the months.

The first person he spots is Peggy, mainly because she stands up on the seats and shouts his name until he looks over. The moment that he does, she gestures for him to join them so he makes his way over to the corner booth. Checkered tiles and stainless steel take over the small diner, yet it doesn’t feel industrial. Shouts from the cooks as they place orders on the counter of the small window, which separates the kitchen from the rest of the diner, mingle with the patron’s conversations. He swerves around waitresses carrying trays overflowing with plates of mouthwatering fries and burgers before finally arriving at the worn red leather booth.

Peggy nudges John, who looks up to meet Alex’s gaze, and immediately slides over to make room for him. Alex sits on the outside, across from Lafayette and next to John, and sheds his coat. When he’s done, John slides a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, “Alexander! You’ve mentioned _man y times_ how much you love coffee so I ordered some for you.” Alex looks wide eyed at the freckled man next to him, “was that okay?” John adds, hesitantly.

He can barely hear Lafayette whisper to Hercules as he nods quickly, “yes! Yes, that’s fine. I just… didn’t expect it. How much was it?” he asks, already digging into his pocket.

“Don’t worry about it,” John replies, shrugging and popping a fry from his, nearly empty, plate into his mouth.

“I can pay you back!” Alex protests, pulling a handful of crumpled bills and change from his pocket.

John just smiles and shakes his head. He picks up the bottle from the center of the table and squeezes more ketchup onto his plate.

“Don’t argue with him, man,” Hercules speaks up from his spot by Lafayette, “once he decides something, he rarely changes his mind.”

“But-” Alex looks away from John and changes course mid-sentence, “where’s Theo?”

Maria chooses that moment to stop her conversation, Alex heard ‘Eliza’ when he sat down, and smiles at him, “the only thing she said when we asked why she couldn’t come was ‘personal reasons’. Add it to the fact that she hasn’t been sleeping much lately and I’m kind of worried that something’s happening that she isn’t telling us.”

Peggy pats her arm in comfort and Maria sends her a grateful smile. Alex nods as he wraps his, still cold, hands around the warm coffee cup, “where have I heard that?” he says, mainly to himself, before taking a sip. He looks back at Maria, “if she’s getting herself into something, I can help. I can keep an eye out for anything on the law side. Police reports… things like that.”

Maria freeze when he says ‘police reports’ before shaking her head and sending him a soft smile, “I’d appreciate that, Ham.”

After she speaks, the lights flicker around them causing most of the diner to go silent as they wait for something else to happen.

Nothing does.

Each patron begins going back to their conversation and the volume builds, yet the group he’s with still manages to hear Alex’s stomach rumble.

“Mon ami, when is the last time you ate?” Lafayette asks him, pushing the last half of his fries across the table to Alex and gesturing for the waitress.

“Well, remember when John gave me the apple last night? Then,” he replies, ignoring John’s glare and pushing the plate back. Well, attempting to that is. He would have succeeded if Hercules hasn’t stuck his hand out to stop him, “eat the damn fries, Alex.”

So he does.

Reluctantly.

 

“Wait, Alex, is that John’s scarf?” Peggy asks about an hour, and two more cups of coffee John wouldn’t let him pay for, later.

He looks up from his argument with Lafayette, ‘ _let me pay for my goddamn food, you burnt baguette’_ , and gives her a confused look, “what?” He looks down, at her gesture, and notices that he’s still wearing the scarf, “Oh! It is. Do you want it back?” he asks John.

The man in question shakes his head, “no, you need it more than I-”

“Why are you wearing John’s scarf?” Peggy asks, leaning forward with a smirk on her face.

Laf twitches at the same time there’s a distinct thump from under the table and Peggy squeaks out, “never mind.”

Through the laughter, Alex checks his watch, “I have to go!” He gets up with his coat and, after nervously rocking back and forth on his feet, quickly hugs everyone in the group before bolting out the door.

“He’s one strange man,” Maria says as they watch Alex run down the street, streetlights occasionally flickering.

 

* * *

 

Alexander works well into the night, focused solely on the words in front of him and the pen in his hand. So much so that when the New York City lights go out, he hardly notices it. He only resurfaces when the pounding at the door becomes too much to ignore.

He pushes away from his desk and stumbles to the front door, fumbling with the lock chain for a second before finally pulling the door open. Before he can get a word out, there’s a light in his face, “Agh! What the fuck?!”

“Sorry!”

Then the light’s gone. Well, it’s directed away from his face which is much more preferable. He blinks away the spots and focuses on the person in front of him, “John? What are you doing here? Didn’t I just see you?”

John smiles and nods, “about five hours ago.”

“What time is it?”

“Around three a.m.”

Alex rubs the back of his neck, noticing the ink stains on the back of his hands, “uh… no offense, but why are you here?”

John frowns, “do you want me to leave?”

He quickly shakes his head, “No! I mean, it’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

John raises an eyebrow at him, “haven’t you noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

The grin is back in full force, “there’s a blackout.”

“Seriously?” Alex turns and runs back into the apartment, John wordlessly following to guide with the flashlight.

He looks out at the darkened city from his sixth floor window, “wow, it is… completely dark outside. How did you get here?”

“I had a flashlight and a lot of spare batteries,” John replies, laughing slightly as he holds up a small bag.

Alex is thankful it’s so dark because John misses the overly fond look he sends him, “thank you for telling” no, “… coming for me.” Alex tells him before turning back to the window.

John smiles at him, watching the way his eyes roam the streets as if he’s looking for something he’ll never hope to find. John gently grabs his hand, warm meeting cold and slightly clammy, and electricity shoots up his arm, “come with me.”

Alex looks at him and raises an eyebrow, “where are you taking me?”

“I’m about to change your life.”

Alex stares at him in silence for a moment before a small smile graces his features, “I think you already have.” There’s a small pause where they look at each other, thoughts racing, before he quickly shakes his head, “by all means, lead the way.”

John’s full blown grin has transformed into a soft warm smile, “grab your coat, it’s cold out.” His mom once told him, when he was a kid, that saying things like that were simple ways to tell someone you love them. Maybe Alex understands.

Alexander nods and picks up his coat from the back of his desk chair, “okay, let’s go.” He slips it on and follows John out the door.

“Close your eyes,” John whispers once they get on the elevator. Alex does so, not questioning it once.

Alexander feels the elevator move up. “Keep them closed,” John whispers, standing close to Alex, his breath dancing across Alex’s face.

Alexander nods silently, not trusting his voice, as he feels the warmth radiating from John.

He hears the elevator doors open and John takes his hands, “walk slowly. I’ll guide you.”

He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and steps out of the elevator. John, true to his words, guides Alex to wherever they’re going, thumbs gliding across his knuckles in a soothing gesture. A gesture which Alex appreciates.

A cold wind whips Alexander’s hair around, confirming the notion that John’s taken him outside. They’ve stopped moving. John drops his hands.

“You can open your eyes now, Alexander.”

He does.

They’re standing on the roof of Alex’s apartment building, dark, nearly silent, streets below them.

“Look up.”

He’s speechless. The lights of the city were gone, replaced by a sky bright with colors. A kaleidoscope of stars dance across the night sky. He hasn’t seen this many actual stars in one place since leaving the Caribbean. The moon, in all its glory, shone brightly amongst the stars. As if it was a beacon for the damned. For a few brief moments, a wispy cloud drifts past the moon and it becomes encompassed by a halo of lunar luminescence, then it’s gone. The cloud becomes swallowed by the inky darkness. Constellations swim into focus, taking their places amongst other celestial beings for their nightly orchestra. A musical for the people willing to pay attention.  The Milky Way Galaxy takes his breath away as he stares up at it; purple, brown, red, and blue swirling together like paint on canvas. Like the paint on John’s clothes. Like the ink on Alexander’s hands. It’s quiet and calm and, just this once, Alexander doesn’t feel like running.

The peace is disrupted when someone clears their throat. He whirls around, dropping John’s hands, to see the group he’s grown to love seated on their usual blankets and surrounded by flashlights and candles. Lafayette’s seated between Herc’s legs, the aforementioned man attempting to braid his hair, his guitar in his lap, “bonjour, mon petit lion.” Theo, nearly asleep, leans against Peggy, who smiles at Alex as she runs her fingers through Theodosia’s hair. Alex’s eyes widen when he spots Eliza, who’s watching Maria with, barely concealed, admiration and longing, “hi Eliza.”

She looks up at her name and smiles, “hey Alex. Peggy couldn’t leave this late unless I went with her, you know how dad is.”

He can’t help the chuckle that escapes as he nods, remembering the many times they nearly missed Eliza’s curfew when they were dating.

“Do you want to get coffee soon? Catch up?” After a moment he adds on, “I miss you.”

She smiles, a smile fit for the constellations in the sky, and nods, “I’m free tomorrow. Seven thirty? Usual place?”

“Absolutely,” their usual place means they meet up at a diner, get shitty coffee, and walk to Central Park. It’s nice.

Lafayette begins strumming his guitar, an Elvis song that Alex vaguely recognizes as ‘Love Me Tender’ plays out, mingling with the air and adding to the peaceful atmosphere.

Maria stands and pulls Eliza with her. A whisper, a blush, and they’re slow dancing. Swaying may be the proper term, but they’re pressed close together, eyes closed, appearing completely at peace.

“Do you want to dance?” John asks him as he sticks out his hand, hope dancing in his eyes. Alex is in awe of the man in front of him. He’s a walking galaxy and he _doesn’t understand_.

He looks over at Peggy, who nods as if to say ‘ _I know, and it’s okay_ ’. He looks over at Lafayette and Hercules, the same motion portraying the same message.

He looks back at John.

He takes his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with this chapter. Again, it's unbetad so please excuse any errors! :)
> 
> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> The Pearl Street Diner is an actual diner, built in the early 1960s, that still exists today! It's on the corner of Pearl and Fletcher Street! I couldn't find any pictures of what it looked like in the 60s so I did my best with the description.  
> If you were curious, Alex lives in The Fairfax, built in 1900, on East 69th Street.  
> The blackout I talked about is known at the Northeast Blackout of 1965. It occurred on November 9, 1965. The city was plunged into darkness at 5:27 pm and it lasted for 13 hours, affecting parts of Ontario, Connecticut, Massachusetts, NH, NJ, NY, RI, Pennsylvania, and Vermont. For the most part this mention is accurate, except it occurred between 1 and 2 a.m. on November 9, 1966. It was a full moon that night so it wasn't completely dark. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!! Have a wonderful day/night!! :D


	5. They'll Tell the Story of Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> The Internalized Homophobia tag comes into play in this chapter. Do read with caution if it does affect you in any way. Please stay safe.

There’s a cold breeze and Alex groans, burrowing into the warmth surrounding him. His bed is strangely hard, ‘ _huh_ ,’ Alex thinks, his thoughts cloudy from sleep, ‘ _I must have fallen asleep at my desk and fell on the floor again_.’

He makes an attempt to roll over, only to be stopped by… arms? He feels around, eyes remaining closed, and meets hands? He follows them up and yes those are arms. Even higher, yes there’s shoulders. His consciousness is already fading as sleep makes an effort to reclaim him. As he prepares to surrender to the nearly nightly battle, there’s the sound birds chirping and progress is, yet again, stalled.

‘ _If that bird doesn’t shut up_ ,’ his thoughts freeze, ‘ _bird?_ ’

His eyes shoot up and he comes face to… chest? Yes that’s… that’s definitely a chest. His eyes trail upward. ‘ _Neck… face, oh FUCK!_ ’ He’s cuddling John. He’s in John’s arms. He’s outside and in John’s arms. He’s outside, _there’s other people_ , and he’s in John’s arms.

Memories from last night flash across his mind like an old film. Blurry and out of focus as it dances from frame to frame. The only image he can conjure clearly is of John’s face as he leans in.

* * *

 

_He takes his hand._

_John pulls him close as they move a bit away from the group. The only sound that can be heard are Lafayette’s guitar playing and Hercules’s soft voice accompanying._

 

_Love me tender_

_Love me sweet_

_Never let me go_

_You have made my life complete_

_And I love you so_

 

_Alex watches the tender looks Hercules sends to Lafayette, before he closes his eyes and focuses on singing._

_He slow dances, sways may be the better word, with John and the warmth from his body as he’s pressed up against Alex sends tingles through his bones. It’s as if the icy air doesn’t exist anymore. He can barely bring himself to look at John’s face but when he finally does, he’s reminded of the warmth in his mother’s eyes._

_They used to go to the beach, before his father left, when they still had time to be a family. The sand would burn their feet and his mother would pull him along the shore, the cold water soothing their burning skin. Sometimes they’d dance. They would spin around, kicking up sand and water, laughing without a care in the world. Then they didn’t laugh much anymore. Then it was just Alex. Then the hurricane came and he found his way to America. He- someone taps his nose gently._

_He opens his eyes- when did he close them?- and meets John’s concerned ones, “are you back with me, Alexander?” he whispers as he takes Alex’s hand again._

_Alex nods and whispers back, the music masking their hushed conversation from the rest of the group, “yes. I’m sorry.”_

_John shakes his head, “it’s okay. Don’t apologize. Do you want to talk about it?”_

_It was Alex’s turn to shake his head, “no, I don’t… maybe one day though.”_

_“Well, I’ll be sure to stick around.”_

_“I doubt that’s the only reason you’ll stick around,” Alex says, a small smile appearing on his face._

_John laughs, “you caught me.” He takes a small step back and spins Alex, startling a laugh from him as John pulls him back closer than they were before._

_Alex feels just a little bit lighter as they smile helplessly at each other. Their ‘dancing’ slows to a stop as Lafayette and Hercules suddenly switch from an Elvis song Alex can’t remember the name of, to The Beatles._

_  
_ _Whenever I want you around, yeah_

_All I’ve got to do_

_Is call you on the phone_

_And you’ll come running home, yeah_

_That’s all I’ve gotta do_

_  
_ _John starts slowly leaning in and Alex watches the stars bleed from the sky and blend into his skin._

_WRONG_

_John moves slowly so Alex has time to get away. Alex doesn’t move._

_WRONG_

_Alex leans forward slightly, noticeable only to John. Their hearts beat in sync._

_WRONG_

_Alex can feel John’s breath on his lips, thoughts racing with_

**_WRONG WRONG_ ** ****_  
_ **_WRONG WRONG_ ** **_  
_ ** ******_THIS IS WRONG_**

_John slowly slides his hand up and gently cups Alex’s cheek, warm meeting cold, and Alex can’t bright himself to pull away. Just a little further…_

**_WRONG_ **

_A string snaps and Lafayette yelps, “merde! Sorry!” He quickly fumbles in his guitar case for replacement strings, “I have been meaning to, how you say, replace these strings.” Even if he’s fact, it’s too late. The moment the string snapped, Alex pulled away from John like he’d been burned. He ignores the hurt that flashes across John’s face as he steps away._

* * *

Alex sits up, dislodging John’s arms from around him. He looks around to see the group asleep on the blankets they arrived with, wrapped in each other’s body warmth. Well, everyone except for Lafayette.

“Oh, mon petit lion, you’re awake.”

Alex looks in the direction of the whisper to see Lafayette standing halfway to the other side of the roof.

“Come join me. The sunrise will be beautiful.”

Alex nods and carefully gets up, careful not to disturb the others, and makes his way over to Lafayette. He smiles at Alex when he joins him and they walk to the other side, sitting down on the ledge as their feet hang over the side.

“I am very sorry for interrupting you and John last night,” Lafayette tells Alex, looking over at him.

“It’s okay. It was wrong anyway,” Alex replies, looking at the slowly appearing colors on the horizon.

“What do you mean?” confusion fills Laf’s voice as he questions Alex.

“We’re two guys. It’s wrong. We shouldn’t… we shouldn’t kiss. It’s… it’s wrong,” Alex is looking down at his hands so he’s startled by the bite in Lafayette’s voice.

“What do you mean ‘it’s wrong’, Alexander?” he’s speaking slowly, each word filled with anger and pain. As if he knows what Alex is struggling with.

Alex looks up, shocked by the anger on Lafayette’s face. Laf’s hands grip his knees as he switches between glaring at Alex and glaring at the dark city.

“Are Hercules and I wrong?” he asks Alex, turning his stony gaze in his direction.

“What?”

“We have been together for a year, today actually,” Lafayette says, looking back at Hercules with a gentle smile.

“I didn’t know!” Alexander quickly says, holding his hands up in surrender.

“We are very, how you say, _subtle_ ,” he responds, looking back at Alexander, “this is the 60s, the time of free love and change. Yet, not everyone is accepting as they could be.”

Alex nods and sends a smile to Laf, “you two are sweet together.”

“Thank you. He makes me happy.”

They lapse into silence as they watch the sunrise and the colors spill across the city.

“Not everyone is going to accept you, Alexander. At least accept yourself,” Lafayette says gently, a few minutes later, the anger falling from his gaze and replaced by a deep sadness.

Alex looks back at John as he sleeps and longing fills his bones. He swallows the lump in his throat and says, barely above a whisper, “I can’t.”

“Oh, mon petit lion,” he sighs as he wraps an arm around Alex’s shoulders and pulls him close. It’s quiet for a moment before Lafayette speaks up again, “your meeting with John wasn’t a, how you say, _chance meeting_.”

“What?”

“I do not know the whole story and it’s not really mine to tell but I think… I think it might help.”

* * *

_It’s late May when John sees Alex for the first time. It’s early morning and John just wants coffee except, today, he wants something different. He gets it, not just in liquid form._

* * *

Alex snorts and Lafayette shushes him, “let me tell the story, mon ami.”

 

* * *

_As he leaves the coffee shop, he sees the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen, as he later tells his incredibly supportive friends. The man in question is rushing down the opposite sidewalk, briefcase in hand and shoes untied. Yet, for some reason, he looks over and makes eye contact with John._

_He stops moving, for hardly a second, and then he sends a quick smile, and wave, then he’s off. This time, just a bit faster than before._

_John’s frozen, his forgotten coffee rapidly cooling in his hand, before he shakes his head and walks back to Central Park._

_“There was just something about him,” he later explains when he meets back up with his friends, “there was a spark, no, a flame that shone in his eyes. If I could paint it I would, but I don’t think I could do it justice.” The words come out in a rush, as if they were waiting just behind his lips like a lion ready to pounce, “something called to me the moment I say him. It’s strange, I’m an artist but I think this goes beyond what I can imagine.”_

_The group shares quick silent looks, one shared thought arising, “we’ll do whatever we have to, to help John.”_

_And they do. Each morning, when John goes to ‘get coffee’, someone goes with him and tries to encourage him to talk to the nameless man._

_They don’t talk to the next day or the next day. In fact, they don’t talk at all until June 14th._

_“Mon ami,” Lafayette says, beating his breaking point with one of his best friends, “tu sais je t’aime but I can only handle so much, how you say, stalking.”_

_“I'm not stalking,” John interrupts, blushing brightly._

_Lafayette waves his hand, “go talk to him.”_

_“I can’t,” John sighs as he leans against the wall behind them, “I’ll fuck it up somehow.”_

_“Where did confidant John Laurens go?” Lafayette asks him._

_He rubs his eyes, “this feels different. Important. I have to do it right.”_

_Lafayette sighs and nods as he watches John look around, his heart clenching painfully in his chest._

_John’s eyes widen as he sees the man run down the street, frantic, as papers fly behind him. THe world slows as John realizes it’s his chance, he can finally meet the man he’s pining over._

_“Go! Now’s your chance!” Lafayette pushes him forward and John bolts into action._

_“Wait!” Lafayette calls after John and he takes a dandelion from his hair, “give him this! Maria keeps putting them in my hair.”_

_John nods, takes it, and runs after the frantic man, scooping up papers as he goes._

_Lafayette watches John catch up to the man. He watches John have a bright smile on his face and the other man have a slight blush. He watches John fix his briefcase and his sleeve as the man stares at him with something askin to awe. John leans forward and tucks the flower behind his ear. When John makes his way back to Laf and tosses a peace sign over his shoulder, Lafayette watches the man’s eyes follow him with a slightly dazed expression._

_“Well?”_

_“Alexander Hamilton,” he responds, slightly dazed, “his name is Alexander Hamilton. I was right about the fire in his eyes. He’s,” John pauses for a second and shakes his head, “he’s going to be something special.”_

* * *

It’s quiet as Alexander tries to absorb what he was just told.

“Do you know what I’m saying?” Lafayette asks, keeping his voice soft and gently.

“Kind of?” Alex says, his voice cracking. He clears his throat and rubs at his eyes.

“John cares about you, petit lion. I cannot say how he truly feels but it is, how you say, _obvious_ that he feels something for you,” Lafayette tells him and turns back to the sunrise. 

“I-”

“Ssh,” Laf says, “the sun is rising. It is a new day. Be at peace, little Alex.”

Alex faces forward and leans against Lafayette, color spilling across the city and casting flames on their faces. They watch in silence and if tears slip down Alex’s cheeks, then it’s something they can keep to themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> Love Me Tender is an Elvis Presley song released in 1956, on the B-side of "Any Way You Want Me". I first heard it when I got a bunch of vinyls from my great-grandma, I totally recommend looking it up it's very sweet.  
> All I've Got to Do is a song by the Beatles, released in 1963 on the album With the Beatles. Again, it's a pretty good song. 
> 
> Angsty I know but, trust me, it's gonna be good. Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!  
> To my fellow Americans, and everyone else affected by this election, we'll get through this. We'll keep fighting for equality, we'll keep loving each other, and we'll make it through. Remember that good always triumphs in the end. In the face of adversity, remember the kindness and love we carry in our hearts. Do not give up. Do not give in. Keep fighting. Be strong. Be smart. I love you. Love each other and be kind.  
> Have a great day/night! Be strong <3


	6. Take a Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is named after the fact that I'm exhausted and Take a Break is a great song.

After the sunrise, Alex starts to make his way downstairs before he stops and turns around, “Laf.”

“Oui?” Lafayette responds, turning around to face him.

“You and Herc,” he stops for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts, “you’re not… you’re not wrong.”

Lafayette, understanding what Alex is trying to do, smiles sadly at him, “thank you, mon ami.”

Alex nods stiffly and smiles at him, sends a look to John who’s curled up against Peggy’s side, then leaves. He rubs his eyes as he runs down the stairs and, when he gets to his apartment, he slams and locks the door behind him. He’s not sure how he got from his front door to his bedroom but the next thing he knows, he’s getting dressed with tears stinging his eyes.

“I have so much work to do,” he mutters to himself as he goes back out to the living room. He buries thoughts of John and picks up the casework from his desk. Ignoring his pounding heart and the longing to go back to the roof, _back to John_ , he shoves his feet into his shoes and leaves the apartment.

He walks to work the long way in the hopes that, by the time he gets there, his mind would be calm. Except, when he gets to work, he’s thinking even more. He’s thinking about the color of John’s eyes, the freckles splattered across his face, the look on John’s face when _he pulled away_. ‘ _Oh god, I pulled away_ ,’ Alex thinks forlornly, ‘ _I almost kissed him. I could have kissed him.’_ He abruptly stops walking, ‘ _wait, what am I thinking? I’m not attracted to John. I can’t be. It’s- It’s,’_ he stops himself before he could say it was wrong. He shakes his head and quickly rushes to work, hoping that, if he focused, John would leave him alone.

 

He walks into the building, passed Washington and Angelica, in a daze. Not even noticing when they make an attempt to talk to him. He walks to his desk and places his things on the surface. None of his usual aggression making an appearance.

“Should I talk to him?” Angelica asks Washington as they stand in the corner, watching Alex go through the motions mechanically.

“I would say so, Miss Schuyler,” Washington replies, concern filling his gaze. “Maybe we should both go.”

They look at each other and nod before making their way to Alexander’s desk. When they get there, they stop behind him and Washington clears his throat, “we need to talk to you, son.”

Alex doesn’t respond.

“Alexander,” Angelica says, sharing a concerned look with Washington, “you’re starting to scare us.”

Again, Alex doesn’t respond. They watch him mechanically move his pen across the page, sentences that hardly make sense appear beneath his hand.

Angelica leans over and picks up the stack of ALR Digest Index books off of Alex’s desk, “1… 2… 3,” she slams the books on the floor as the same time that Washington shouts, “Mr. Hamilton!”

Needless to say, Alex jumps about a foot in the air and spins around, “What happened?! What was that?!”

Angelica kneels down and picks up the books, “we’ve been trying to talk to you, Alex,” she says as she puts the books back on his desk.

“Wait, are those my books?” he asks her, catching sight of the titles, “did you throw my books on the ground?”

She waves her hand, disregarding the question entirely, “unimportant-”

“I beg to differ,” Alex replies, cutting her off.

Washington clears his throat, cutting _them both off_ with a sharp glare, “not the time. Alex, what’s going on?”

Alex pauses, “nothing, sir. I’m quite alright.”

Angelica rolls her eyes and responds, “Alexander, I’ve known you for three years and I’ve seen ‘alright’. This isn’t even your skewed definition of ‘alright’.”

“So, I’m a little out of it this morning,” Alex protests, “but it’s nothing to be concerned about! I was fine yesterday and I’ll be fine in a couple hours.”

“Did something happen last night, son?” Washington asks him, concern filling his gaze. His silences Angelica’s argument with a single look, so she crosses her arms and settles for starring Alexander down.

Alex’s facade immediately cracks and tears pool in his eyes again before he blinks them away. Shaking his head, he replies, “sir, nothing,” there’s a pause as if he regretted his word choice, “please just… leave it alone for now.”

“Alex-”

“Please,” he says again, rubbing his face, “just not now… please.”

Washington shares a brief look with Angelica then nods stiffly at Alex, “okay. How’s the case?”

Alex immediately jumps on the distraction, “considering the treatment of Whitmore helped determine the outcome of Miranda v. Arizona, I’d say that we definitely have a good shot at winning this case.”

Noting the man who was waiting in his office, Washington bid Alex a quick farewell and rushed off. Angelica stays back and stares at Alex, “Alexander, cut the bullshit. What’s going on?”  
“Nothing, Angelica,” he sights, “there’s just a lot going on.”

“With the case?”

“No. Surprisingly, this case is the easiest thing I have going for me right now,” Alex responds, turning back around and resting his head on the desk.

She sighs and rests her hand on his back, “have you thought about journaling?”

He shrugs in response and Angelica can practically see the mood radiating off of him, “I know that you used to do it a lot in college. I don’t know why you stopped but no one has to read it, so it might help.”

Alex slowly looks up, “where would I even start?”

She shrugs and drops her hand from his back, “I don’t know. From the beginning of whatever brought you down?”

Alexander nods, “okay, yeah, I can do that.”

Angelica heads back to her desk and spends the rest of the day working and keeping an eye on him. If she happens to keep Jefferson and Burr away from his general area, then that’s her business.

 

When 6 o’clock rolls around, Alex walks to Washington’s office and knocks on the open door, “forgive me, sir, but I have to leave early.”

Washington looks at his watch, “it’s six, Alex. Most people are heading home at this time.”

“I’m not ‘most people’, sir. Anyway, I’m meeting up with a friend for coffee at seven, would it be alright if I leave now?” Alex responds, wrapping his arms around himself.

He nods, “of course. Have a good time. Take care of yourself, son.”

Too exhausted to fight back at the usage of ‘son’, Alex says, “thank you, sir,” he turns and heads back to his desk. He gathers his things and makes his way downstairs, “Alex!” he stops in the lobby.

“You’re leaving early,” Angelica states, catching up with Alexander.

He tries to laugh, “how observant, Ange. I’m meeting up with Eliza for coffee.”

“Alex, we love you and you’re great but you’re not trying to pursue her again, right?” She asks him, raising an eyebrow.

His mind flashes to John and his smile, “just coffee. I love her but… not like that anymore. We’ve been over this.”

“I know but I’m worried about the two of you. You’re not fully present an I don’t want you to-“

“Angelica, I haven’t seen, or talked to, her in month. I love her and I miss her. It’s just coffee and catching up,” he cuts her off, growing increasingly frustrated.

“I know, I’m just worried,” she says as she gently pats his arm, “do you want a ride there?”

He lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, “I’m alright, thank you. I think I’m going to walk. I need the air,” ‘ _maybe the cold will get me out of my head_ ’ he thinks to himself.

“Alright, be safe,” she responds as she gets her keys from her coat pocket, “see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Alex replies, watching her go to her car before turning and walking down the street. He shoves his hands in his pockets, mind drifting back to how it felt to wake up in John’s arms. To feel warm, though the morning was freezing, and safe for the first time in years.

The lights of the city were slowly flickering back to life after the black out. Sections of the city lighting up, like Times Square on New Year’s, in indecipherable patterns. The stars on the horizon fade out of existence as the neon and fluorescents rush to greet him like old friends after years of silence.

The coffee shop that Alex and Eliza used to frequent, back when they dated and before life got in the way after they broke up, was known as Caffe Reggio. Located in Greenwich Village, it housed some of the best coffee in Manhattan (though they always said it was shit to stop others from coming but everyone knew) and it was about an hour walk from Washington Law.

Alex arrives at the green painted building ten minutes early. Lips blue and body shivering but his mind was slightly clearer. He walks into the building, warmth immediately soaking into his bones. Brown paint and art from local artists cover the walks, succeeding at their attempt for warm and homeliness. Alexander makes his way to the booth in the corner, pushing passed college seniors working on their final papers and untrustworthy men in suits pushing papers back and forth.

He slides on to the brown leather and rests his elbows on the table top, hiding his face in his hands. He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. Someone clears their throat next to him and he looks up. Elizabeth Schuyler, actual angel of the eastern United States, stands next to the table. Snowflakes dot her dark hair that hangs passed her shoulders and her smile shines brighter than the snow outside.

“Alexander,” she says, smile getting impossibly brighter as he stands and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Darling Betsey,” he says with a grin, “you look beautiful this evening.”

She slides in across from him and slips off her coat, a blush colors her cheeks, “thank you, Alex. You look,” worry fills her gaze, “exhausted.”

Alex sits back down and sighs, “well, I did sleep last night. You were there!”

Eliza laughs, “that I was.” The worry gets replaced with mischief, “ _you and John_ certainly slept well.”

He groans, “can we please talk about something else? I can’t deal with this right now. Didn’t you used to curl your hair?”

She takes the subject change and tugs on part of her hair, “Yes. I decided not to do it today and mother and father were very surprised. But women’s roles are changing, I can be my own person! I wanted to try something new and it saved so much time this morning,” she finishes with a smile.

Alex reaches forward and pushes her hair behind her ear,” I know you’re not looking for approval but I love it and you look beautiful. You should leave it like that.”

Eliza’s smile widens, “maybe I will. It’s so much more comfortable and freeing.” She pauses for a second before continuing more hesitantly,” I was thinking of going to a rally for equal rights. You know, signs and marching with others? You should come.”

Alexander nods, “to quote my favorite person: maybe I will.”

She laughs and Alex stands up, “usual order?” he asks.

“Yes please,” Eliza replies, reaching for her purse.

“Don’t worry, I got it,” Alexander replies with a smile, making his way over to the counter and placing the order. He glances around the coffee shop, heart jumping each time he sees someone who looks vaguely like John. Eventually, he gets the coffee and rushes back to the booth, “sorry for taking so long,” he quickly apologizes.

She takes her coffee and waves off his apology, “don’t worry about it. I was just looking at the art.”

“See anything interesting?” he questions, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Just that one,” Eliza replies, gesturing to the painting that hung on the wall over their booth.

Alexander looks closely at the painting, “JL?” he asks as he looks at the initials in the corner.

“Who do you think it is?”

His mind flashes to a drawing that John had shown him a month after they officially met. The painting he was inspecting was extremely reminiscent of it, the use of lines and colors on the canvas spread out in every direction. Like the hurricane was Alex was seventeen. Like the feeling in his chest every time he sees John. “It’s John’s,” Alex supplies.

“What?” Eliza asks, tearing her gaze away from someone and looking back at Alex.

A flash of red appears in the corner of Alex’s eye but it’s gone when he looks over. He focuses back on Eliza and continues, “the painting is my John’s- our John’s,” he clears his throat, “John Laurens. The painting is John’s. John as in John Laurens.” He fills his mouth with coffee to stop more words from spilling out, cheeks aflame.

Eliza laughs, the sound ringing out like bells through the rapidly clearing coffee shop, “Alex, it’s the 60s. It’s okay to like John. To be attracted to him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alex protests, sending a frantic glance around the area, “I don’t like John.”

Eliza pats his hand and glances at her watch,” I hate to cut this short but I have to be home by eight-thirty. Would you like to share a cab?”

Alex smiles and stands up with her, “I’d love to.”

They make their way outside after putting their coats back on and wave down a taxi. They climb into the first cab that pulls over and Eliza supplies her address after buckling her seat belt, “Northwest corner of 72nd and Central Park West, please.”

The driver smiles and nods, “of course.” He pulls away from the curb and begins the drive to The Dakota. It’s silent for a while until Eliza speaks up again, “I’m sorry if I offended you back at the Caffe Reggio. With the whole John thing.”

Alex immediately shakes his head, “you didn’t. I just can’t deal with all this right now. Eliza, I have so much on my plate.”

She nods and lowers her voice, the music from the radio masking her next statement, “I know, Alex, which is why you need John more than ever.”

Alex sighs, “I can’t ‘liza. It’s not… I can’t,” he shakes his head as the words won’t come to him.

They cab pulls up and Eliza quickly pays before Alex can argue with her. They climb out and she grasps Alex’s hand as the cab pulls away, “Alex, just think about it. You’ll be breaking two hearts here,” she pauses for a second, “no one will think of you any differently.  Not me, not Angelica, not Peggy, not Washington, not Burr, or Jefferson, not Lafayette, not John, not Herc, or Maria, or Theo. You’ll still be Alexander Hamilton, the best lawyer, and the smartest man, I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.” She pokes his chest with her other hand, “listen to your heart for once.”

He chuckles, “I don’t think an organ that pumps blood is capable of making decisions for me.”

She rolls her eyes, “you know what I mean.”

Alex sighs and cracks a smile, “I can’t promise anything.”

“You don’t have to. I just want you to think.”

He presses a kiss to the back of her hand, “best of women.”

Eliza laughs and lets go of his hand, “be safe, Alexander.”

“Always,” he replies, watching her go into the building before turning and walking across Central Park.

They sun has long since disappeared and the moon is nowhere in sight, hidden behind clouds and snow. Looking up at the streetlamps, Alex can see snow falling steadily, greeting the earth like long lost lovers. Halos of light guide the path that Alex has long since memorized and the only sound that can be heard are Alex’s footfalls as the snow crunches beneath him.

He nears the other end of the park and exits onto the street. It’s as if he entered another world as the atmosphere abruptly shifts. He moves around people as he makes his way to his apartment, the ignored chill quickly making itself known.

Alex enters a bookstore near his apartment and purchases a leather bound journal. The book itself comforts Alex’s anxious soul as he enters his apartment. He turns on the lights, takes of his shoes and coat, and takes a seat at his desk.

Alex rests the journal on the surface in front of him and pulls a pen out of the drawer. He flips to the first page. Presses the pen to the paper. The words flow out before he can even blink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> -The Whitemore Case is an actual case. The things I'm talking about now happened in 1965 though, and it's currently 1966 in the story. Whitemore's treatment did help in Miranda v. Arizona (decided in 1966)!  
> -ALR Digest Index. American Law Reports. First published in 1919 and are basically law encyclopedias. Are continuously being updated and published as well.  
> -Caffe Reggio is a coffeehouse in New York City, located in Greenwich Village, that first opened in 1927. Its first espresso machine (made in 1902) can still be found in the building!  
> -The Dakota (where the Schuyler's live) is an apartment building located on the northwest corner of 72nd street and Central Park West. Built between October 25, 1880, and October 27, 1884. Designated as a National Historic Landmark in 1976. Was home to John Lennon, Judy Garland, and very other famous people. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm completely exhausted and I feel like these chapters would be longer if I didn't hand write them before typing them up. The play went well! My portfolio's done! Let me know what you think of this chapter/story! How are you? Should I link my twitter? Have a wonderful day/night!!! <3  
> 


	7. He Will Do What It Takes To Survive

By the time Alexander finally looked away from his notebook, the sun was already starting to rise. His eyes were burning and his hand was cramping, meaning he had two choices. He could stay home and rest or he could work. Yeah, he’s definitely going to work even if it kills him.

He pushes back from his desk, vision swimming as it adjusts to the distance, and stands. Grabbing the edge of the desk to steady himself, he makes his way to the bathroom.

“Fuck,” he whispers, staring at his bloodshot eyes and flushed skin. He reaches for the shaving cream before changing course and taking his toothbrush instead. It’s quiet as he brushes his teeth, body feeling lighter than it has in years. Each word that he wrote chipped at the weight that had settled on his mind and shoulders.

He sets the toothbrush back on the counter and rinses his mouth. Alex meets his own eyes in the mirror, “who are you?” He questions himself, “I don’t recognize you anymore. I never truly did but… this? Are you even Alexander Hamilton?” The person staring back at him just blinks in response, intelligence flickering in his gaze.  Alexander sighs, “of course there’s no response, I’m talking to myself. I don’t know why I expected there to be.”

He exits the bathroom and walks into his bedroom. Plain walls glaring accusingly back at him as he enters the nearly empty room. Instead of collapsing on the unmade bed, like he longs to do, he picks up the pieces of a suit and gets dressed. It’s mismatched; too exhausted to appear put together as he shoves his feet into the sneakers he hasn’t worn since his college graduation last year. He picks up his briefcase, noticing the paint splatters that he doesn’t recall applying, and exits the silent apartment. There’s hardly a noise as he leaves the building, which isn’t surprising as it’s not even seven in the morning yet.

He begins his daily walk to walk, ignoring the bright morning sun that makes the snow burn his tired eyes. Not wearing his coat, or John’s scarf, Alex slowly registers the chill that’s sneaking underneath his suit jacket and wraps his arms tightly around himself. He speeds up his walk, hoping that the faster he walks the warmer he’ll get. He turns down a different street to avoid the place John normally finds him at. Even if it takes him ten extra minutes to get to work, not that he’s keeping track. He also doesn’t look for a certain curly haired man, regardless of the fact that he purposely turned down a different street.

He finally arrives at his job and pulls open the, surprisingly, unlocked door to enter the office building. Alexander walks past the vacant secretary desk, past the dark elevator, and pulls open the door to the quiet staircase. He starts walking up the stairs, “1… 2… 3…” he mutters as he passes the large floor numbers until he finally arrives on the seventh floor. Alex opens the unlocked door and enters the dark floor. Fumbling for the one of the light switches, he flicks it on and moves to his desk. Unceremoniously dropping his briefcase on his desk, it pops open and papers fly out.

Alexander wouldn’t be surprised if his groan could be heard all the way in Brooklyn. He kneels down on the floor and gathers the pages that had flown out, stopping when he meets a shoe. Not just any shoe greeted him as it stepped on one of the papers. But brown oxfords meticulously shined. His eyes trail up to meet a tailored black suit, much nicer than anything he’s owned in the last few years. His eyes went higher and _god fucking dammit_ , “Thomas Jefferson.”

“Alexander Hamilton,” the other man speaks, the name falling from his lips with evident disdain. He looks down at Alex like he was a spec of dirt on the shoes he just shined, “you look like hell. But when do you not?”

Alex stands up and Jefferson crouches down to pick up the page, “really Hamilton? Robles ‘ case? Isn’t this a little too much for you? I mean, you’ve only been working here for a year. You’d think Washington would start you on something much simpler like those equal pay lawsuits.”

Alex clenches his fists and his vision sharpens, “watch your mouth, Jefferson.”

Jefferson places the sheet on Alex’s desk and steps closer, “or what?” He looks around the office, “we’re the only ones here, Hamilton.”

“Exactly. You’ll see what I can do to you,” Alexander responds, nails digging into his palms, “Angelica’s not here to stop me.”

Jefferson smirks, “right. Your mom’s not here to stop you.”

Alex’s blood boils, “excuse me?”

Before Jefferson can respond, the door is pulled open and the unmistakable sound of Washington’s heavy footfalls can be heard until, “Hamilton? Jefferson? What are you two doing?”

Alexander wants to punch the smirk off of Jefferson’s face, especially when his expression shifts to a pleasant smile and he says, “oh nothing, sir. Just having a pleasant chat with my colleague.” If Alexander rolls his eyes any harder they’d pop out of his head.

Washington raises an eyebrow, “is that so?”

“Of course, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Alexander,” Jefferson quickly shakes Alex’s hand and walks away, wiping his hands off on his pants when he thinks he’s out of sight.

Washington walks towards Alex and his eyes widen, “Alexander, did you get any sleep last night?”

The large yawn that prevents Alex from replying answers Washington’s question for him.

“Go home and get some rest, Mr. Hamilton. You’ll need it, especially after the weekend when I expect you and Miss Schuyler to use as much of your time as you can to finish the Robles’ case,” he says, moving to his office and leaving Alexander standing with wide eyes.

Alex shakes his head and goes to sit down when Washington shouts from inside his office, “that wasn’t an offer, Alexander! That’s an order, go home and rest!”

Alexander jumps and looks around, “how did you know?!”

“I know you, Hamilton! If I see you here before Monday, I will personally throw you out!”

Alexander sighs and gathers his papers, shoving all of them into his briefcase, he stands but before he can move, Washington shouts again, “leave your work here, Hamilton!”

“What am I supposed to do all weekend, sir?!”

George Washington appears in the doorway with his arms crossed, “you could rest. Eat actual meals and sleep for more than 3 hours.”

Alex sighs again and pulls open the largest drawer in his desk, “I’m going to regret doing this.” He puts the briefcase in it and pushes it closed. He takes out his key ring and locks the drawer.

“I’ll make sure your things are safe, Alexander. Go home.”

He makes his way to the elevator when Angelica Schuyler is getting off of it, “Angelica! Thank god, okay, can you please-”

“Alexander! When I said to leave your work here, I didn’t mean to ask Angelica to lock pick your desk for it!” Washington shouts, walking across the floor.

“Sorry, Alex. I’m going to have to side with Washington on this. Whatever it is.” Angelica replies, laughing.

“You’re a traitor, Miss Schuyler,” Alexander replies, pushing passed her into the elevator, “also, punch Jefferson for me, thanks.”

“Wait, what did Jefferson do?”

But the elevator doors were already closing and Alexander was moving down to the lobby.  It may be too soon to tell, but Alex ander already hates the weekend. He hands feel empty without carrying the briefcase that has basically become his safety blanket. He walks down the street unsure of where to go, it’s too cold for Central Park, and Eliza wouldn’t be awake. Alex checks his watch; the only person who would typically be around at eight thirty is John Laurens. His heart stutters at the thought of John Laurens. The man that’s causing him all these troubles. The man with the curly hair and the tanned skin. Hazel eyes that stared into Alex’s own dark eyes like they knew everything he could ever even want to say. Alex quickly shakes his head, “no. No, I’m not doing this right now. I can’t. I have to… I have to get over whatever this is.”

He’s walking down 89th Street when he passes by the entrance of a worn down store. Maybe “ramshackle” would be the proper word to describe it. It’s dark red and brown, with a wooden green sign hanging out front that reads _New Yorker Bookshop_ in swooping gold letters. He tried the door and breathed a sigh of relief, _unlocked_ , he went inside and the bell dinged, ringing out into the empty shop. “I’ll be out in a minute!” a voice called from somewhere behind the counter.

Inside, the entryway was small and led to a floor packed with magazines and flyers. Sagging bookshelves overflowing with new and old titles, some worn and well-loved while others had barely been touched, the pages eager to be flipped through, lined the walls that pointed towards a staircase. He’s heading towards it when footsteps sound out and a voice calls, “good morning! Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”  

He spins around, startled by the voice, “Theo?!”

She jumps then grins, “Alexander! It’s been so long!”

He pauses, confused, “it’s been two days?”

Theo nods quickly, “exactly! Far too long. John was really upset when you didn’t show up at the diner.”

Alex crosses his arms, trying to keep the frown off his face, and responds, “well, yesterday I got coffee with Eliza-”

Theodosia waves her hand, “no need to explain yourself. We already knew about the coffee, he was just hoping you’d stop by afterwards. Anyway, enough about John, were you looking for something in particular?”

Alex sighs, uncrosses his arms, and moves towards Theo, “not exactly?”

She smiles and claps her hands, “well, I know just the thing. Come with me.” She gestures for him to follow her and leads the way up the staircase to the second floor. The stairs creaked under their feet as they walked up, enough the Alex was slightly scared that he was going to fall through the wood.

If he thought the first floor was crowded, the second floor is definitely Times Square. Books are stacked on the floors and tables as the shelves are too full to house anymore. Theo walks between towers of books and Alexander quickly follows as she moves towards a shelf near the windows. Sunlight streams through the glass, highlighting the dust that floats through the air.

“You seem like you could use some fiction in your life,” Theodosia says, pulling a book off the shelf and wincing at the creaking that occurs as the shelf settles.  “You’re more than welcome to sit here and read,” she looks around the room before moving a stack of books and revealing a red arm chair underneath the window, “or you can buy them. If you want to look for more books, this area generally holds fiction. Nonfiction is scattered throughout the room but organized by subgenres. I think so, anyway, my grandparents were sort of… unclear on organization. If you need anything feel free to let me know!” Theo finishes with a smile before making her way back downstairs.

Alexander nods and sits down in the chair. He places the book in his lap and runs his fingers over the cover, “The Fellowship of the Ring,” he mutters to himself. A black circle with a red eye sits in the center of the white cover with what appears to be red letters, in a language Alex can’t decipher, circling it. He cracks open the book and faces even more of the strange writing, and what appears to be some sort of poem.

_Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,_

_Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,_

_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,_

_One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne_

_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie._

_One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,_

_One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them_

_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie._

He shakes his head and continues reading the book in his lap, getting lost in the world of hobbits and magic that’s at his fingertips. When he finally pulls himself away from the adventures of Frodo, Alex looks out the window and notices that the sun is high in the sky. He frantically checks his watch and notices that it’s two in the afternoon. Alex stands up and stretches, placing the book back where Theo pulled it from, and searches for the other two that were noted in the back of the book. He finally finds _The Two Towers_ and _The Return of the King_ but when he’s heading towards the staircase a white book with bold black letters and orange and green streaks of color catches his eye. When he walks closer he notices that the streaks of color are actually faces on the cover. Alex picks up the book and reads the cover _The Bisexual Option: A Concept of One Hundred Percent Intimacy._ He flips to the back hoping to find some type of summary and reads “The Bisexual Option explores bisexuality, explains the bisexual, and explodes myths surrounding the large ‘unseen’ segment of the population.”

Alexander looks around before shoving the book between the two in his arms and rushing down the stairs, “hey Theo, could I buy these?”

She looks up from the desk and nods, “of course. Just bring them over here so I can look up the prices in my binder.”

He gulps, anxiety rapidly filling his body, and moves to stand in front of the desk. He slowly places the stack on top of the wood and Theo reaches for them, “it’s okay, Alex. I’m not going to judge you for your choices in literature. Unless you bought a cheesy romance novel then maybe a little bit.”

He forces a laugh and anxiously watches as she flips through the pages in her binder for the price of _The Two Towers_. She’s humming softly as she writes the price down on the notepad next to her and places the book in front of Alex, when she looks at the second one she stops for a second.

His heart jumps into his throat when she stops moving, he looks for something to talk about and focuses on the ring on her hand, “I didn’t know you were married?”

She looks up and smiles at him, “sometimes I forget too. I married young, too young if you ask me. He liked me, I barely knew him but I knew he could take care of my family so I agreed.” She looks for the price of the book and writes it down on her notepad before handing it to him. “He’s not a bad guy; I’m just not,” she sighs, “I’m not happy.” Theo finds the final price and writes it down before calculating the total price, “thirty four dollars and twenty cents.”

Alexander digs into his pocket for his wallet, “I might be able to help with that.” He pulls out the money and hands it to her.

“What do you mean?” She asks, putting the books in a bag for him, having seen his nerves when he handed the books over.

“If you don’t want to be with him anymore… I can help,” he says as he takes the bag. “I like to think that I’m a pretty good lawyer.”

She nods slowly, “I’ve thought about divorcing him but I don’t know. What if he tries something?”

He places his hand on her arm gently, “if you’re scared of him in any way then he’s not a good guy. Trust me, we can protect you.”

She nods and smiles at him, “I’ll think about it.”

He ignores the ding of the bell, and the flash of yellow, and hands a card to her, “that’s for my office. If you decide to go for it, call and ask for me. I’m working on a murder trial but I can definitely do this for you.”

She takes it and slides it into her pocket, “Thank you, Alexander.”

He smiles at her quickly, turns and makes his way to the door. Before he can open it, Theodosia stops him, “Alex! About your books… no one’s judging you. It’s going to be okay, we still love you.”

He takes a deep breath and nods, “thank you, Theo. I, um, I appreciate it.”

“Feel free to stop by the diner tonight, or sometime over the weekend. Well, on Saturday, I think Laf’s having us over at their apartment. Well ‘their’ meaning Laf and Herc live together. Would you like the address?”

Alexander is stunned but slowly shakes his head, “I uh… I have plans. I’m going on a date.” ‘ _Fuck!_ ’ he thinks to himself, ‘ _why the fuck did I say that?! I’m not going on a date!’_

Theo’s eyes widen but she quickly replaces it with a smile, “really? Well, congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

Alex gives a stiff smile, “thank you. I have to go.” He’s out of the building before she can respond.

He’s berating himself the entire walk to his apartment. When he finally arrives, he throws open the door, slams it shut behind him, and collapses on the couch. Not even bothering to remove his shoes.

“Why did I say that?” he says aloud to the empty apartment, “the look on her face. She’s going to tell John.” His eyes widen, “wait, why am I worried about what John’s going to think? I don’t like John. Well, I do like him, he’s amazing, sweet, funny, and those eyes,” he trails off with a sigh before jumping. “Stop it, Alex! Great, now I’m rambling to myself.” He stands up and begins pacing the apartment, “I can’t _like_ John because… because,” he can’t think of a reason. Not a single reason he can come up with makes sense.

“It’s not natural.”

_‘Yes it is. You’ve seen Hercules and Lafayette.’_

“It’s wrong.”

_‘Don’t you remember what Lafayette said? You think it’s wrong because it’s you.’_

“I can’t be attracted to him.”

_‘You’re scared to be attracted to him.’_

The tears are pooling in his eyes as he sits back on the couch. He holds his head in his hands and lets the tears fall, “I can’t do this.” His breaths come quickly and his heart speeds up, “it’s not- I can’t.” He’s startled out of his thoughts by a knock at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose that title because of the fact he found the book and he's reading about bisexuality (and things are about to go up and then dowwnn). Speaking of the book!  
> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> New Yorker Bookshop actually existed! Opened in 1964 and closed in 1982. Just west of Broadway and around the corner from the New Yorker theater. It's actually near Trinity school which I thought was interesting because Alexander Hamilton is buried in Trinity Church.  
> The Fellowship of the Ring was published on July 29, 1954. I had to include it, I'm not even sorry.  
> The Bisexual Option was published in 1978 by Fritz Klein. The book shows bisexual people that they aren't alone and discusses where people may fit on the sexual orientation spectrum. I couldn't find books on bisexuality that were published any earlier as a lot of it was censored before the 70s. I'm sorry if this offended anyone or if this appeared insensitive or wrongfully portrayed, that wasn't my intention.
> 
> I know that John hasn't been in these last two chapters but trust me. It's gonna be good. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this! It's been a joy writing this so far! Anyway, do you have any questions? How are all of you doing? Let me know what you think!! Have a wonderful day/night!! <3 :)


	8. God, I Hope You're Satisfied

Alexander freezes when he hears the knock at the door. Only three people know that he’s not working today and those three a _re_ working. ‘ _Just ignore it_ ,’ passes quickly through his head but there’s another knock that’s harder than before.

“Alexander, open the door! I know you’re home!” calls a _very angry_ voice from the other side of the door.

He groans and stands up, wiping his eyes as he walks to the door. He pulls open the door and Margarita Schuyler, also known as Peggy, appears on the other end. Wearing a yellow coat with her fist poised to knock again.

“Good afternoon, Miss Schuyler. Always a pleasure,” he says before turning around and walking back to the living room.

“What the hell, A Ham?!” Peggy storms inside the apartment, throwing the door closed behind her. “What did you do?!”

“Could you be more specific?” Alex asks, looking up at Peggy. Her arms are crossed, eyebrows pushed together, and lips pursed, the universal sign for _extremely_ angry and ‘are you fucking serious’.

“You have a date,” Peggy states, matter-of-factly. She doesn’t bother to beat around the bush, never has now to think of it.

Alex’s eyes widen and his mind goes blank, “how do you know about that?”

“I was there, genius! At the bookstore,” Peggy groans, exasperated.

Alexander crosses his arms defensively, “why are you here?” The small spurt of anger leaves him and he collapses on the threadbare couch, exhausted.

She stares at him, anger slowly seeping out of her body as she takes in his practically fragile form, “I was mad but… I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Peggy,” he replies, rubbing his eyes, “nothing to be worried about.”

She rolls her eyes, “yeah, right. Look, Ham, I may not know you as well Angie or ‘liza but I’m pretty confident in my abilities of knowing when people aren’t okay. Or as okay as they could be.” She sits down next to him, “what’s going on?”

He shakes his head, “nothing! Seriously, I’m fine and I don’t understand why everyone’s worried about me.”

Peggy sighs, “so, Hamilton, who’s the lucky… person?”

“What?”

She raises an eyebrow, “your date?”

He waves his hand, “I lied.”

It was Peggy’s to say, “what?”

He rubs his face with his hands, facial hair scratching his palms, “I’m not going on a date. I lied. There’s no date.”

“Why would you lie?”

“Because,” he’s not exactly sure how to respond in a way that won’t make her angry, “I don’t know.” ‘ _Not good enough, Alex!’_

Peggy groans and stands up, “I came all the way over here to yell at you about going on a date and now I don’t even get to do that.”

“Where are you going?” Alex asks, looking up at her.

“I’m heading to Maria’s, I was supposed to be there,” she checks her watch, “ten minutes ago. You can come with me, if you want.”

Alexander shakes his head, “no. I can’t go.” _‘John could be there,’_ he doesn’t voice.

Peggy shrugs, “suit yourself, Ham. Let me know if you need anything.” She heads to the door, “seriously, don’t be stupid. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Pegs,” he calls after her as she exits the apartment, pulling the door closed behind her. Then it’s just him and it’s quiet. The only sound that can be heard is his breathing before he stands and walks to his desk that’s pushed into the corner of the small room. He sits in the hard uncomfortable chair and opens the notebook on his desk. The pen sliding out from between the pages as he reads from where he left off

_“Eliza walked inside her building and I had no choice but to leave. The walk through Central Park was cold, as it always is this time of year, but it was a different kind of cold. The snow fell steadily last night, beautiful and pure as it met the earth. I wish I could say the same for myself._

_I bought this notebook after I exited the park. There’s a small bookstore near my apartment that sells notebooks if you catch them on a good day. Thankfully, it was a good day. The notebook was cheap and it was Angelica’s idea for me to start writing like this again. I should be thankful. I am thankful.”_

Every other sentence involved John. Everything was John, it’s like he’s haunting Alexander. Each of his thoughts are taken over by the freckled man he used to call his friend. ‘ _Used to_?’ Alexander’s startled out of his mind by that one thought. “No, no, we’re still friends,” he mutters to himself, “there’s no reason for us not to be.” He shakes his head and picks up the pen that had rolled off the desk onto his lap. Forgetting about the books he just bought, he pushes the pen against the rough paper, hoping that he’ll get these thoughts out and be okay.

It doesn’t work. That night he’s curled up on the sofa with a pack of crackers resting against his side as he watches reruns of Burke’s Law. He falls asleep during his favorite episode “Who Killed Merlin the Great?” and manages to sleep through the tapping on his door.

 

The weekend passes by in a blur of writing (“which isn’t working, sir”), reading any book he can find (yet avoiding _The Bisexual Option_ , not having the confidence to read it yet), and watching reruns of Burke’s Law when he can manage to find a few episodes. Alexander makes an effort to not leave his apartment during the weekend, not wanting to risk seeing the people he’s come to know. Not that he doesn’t want to see them, it’s just, they’d ask questions that he’s not ready to answer.

When Monday morning rolls around, and Alexander can finally go to work, he pulls himself off the couch and practically runs to the bathroom. He takes a fast shower, washing his hair quickly before jumping out and wrapping a towel around his waist. It’s cold in his apartment, and his feet are quickly chilled as he walks to his bedroom just across the hall. He’s hit with a blast of cold air as he pushes the bedroom door open and struggles to get dressed as fast as he can.

“Pants? Check. Shirt? Check. Wait,” he pulls at the waistband of his pants and breathes a sigh of relief, “underwear? Check.” He slips on his suit jacket, throws his hair in a ponytail, and frantically looks for his briefcase, “I’m going to be so late if I can’t find this!” He moves books and papers out of the way as he digs around for the familiar worn leather. Before realizing what’s he doing and stopping, “it’s in my desk. At work. I’m looking around for nothing.” He stands up straight and groans, “this day is slowly getting worse.”

He heads to the door and shoves his feet into his shoes, finds his keys, and pulls the door open. Coming face to face with John Laurens.

Who almost knocks on his face.

Alexander’s frozen. Yes, he hasn’t seen John since Wednesday but it feels like so much longer than that. The chill that had filled his soul is quickly replaced by warmth as he basks in John’s presence, “hey… hi, John. What are you doing here so early?”

John grins at him, “Alexander Hamilton! It’s been way too long. I’m here because I haven’t seen you in four days. Today would’ve been the fifth. I stopped by Friday but you didn’t answer and Theo said you had a date?” His grin falters at that before it’s quickly back and Alex thinks he imagined it.

Alex shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, “I uh… I fell asleep. There was no date… at all, over the weekend.”

John’s grin gets brighter before he clears his throat, “I’m sorry to hear that, Alexander. Anyone would be lucky to date you.”

He blushes brightly, “uh, thanks. I’m uh, on my way to work actually. Is there anything you need?”

John shrugs, “just to talk to you. Can I walk you to work?”

Alex nods quickly, “I’d like that!” Before clearing his throat and saying nonchalantly, “I mean, yeah, that would be cool. If you want to, that is. I’m cool with that. With you walking me to work, I mean.” He bites his tongue to stop more words from spilling out.

John laughs and, _god has Alex missed that laugh_ , sticks his arm out for Alex, “well then, let’s go. I’d hate for you to be late.”

Alex pulls the door shut behind him and locks out, “how’s everything been going?” He asks, pretending not to notice the flash of hurt on John’s face as he tries to ignore John’s arm.

John drops his arm and shrugs, “I’ve done a lot of painting. I was in an art show over the weekend.”

“Really? That’s amazing, John! Why didn’t you tell me?” Alex asks, glancing over at him.

“Well, it didn’t seem like you wanted to see me,” John replies.

Alex winces, “I’m sorry.” It’s quiet for a few moments as they step out into the morning sunlight then John speaks up again.

“Don’t worry about it. I heard that Washington kicked you out on Friday,” he says with a smirk.

“Who even told you about that?” Alex asks, eyes wide.

“Well, Angelica told Peggy because she apparently thought it was hilarious and then Peggy told me because she thought I’d ‘knock some sense into that burnt piece of toast’. Thought, I don’t understand why a majority of our insults involve bread?” He responds, confusion starting to fill his voice, “I don’t even eat that much bread?”

Alex, first the first time in days, laughs, “well, that’s definitely something. Yeah, Washington said I looked exhausted and needed rest and I wasn’t to go back until Monday.”

John stops and looks at Alex with worry, “are you okay? Are you sick?”

Alex shakes his head and tries to keep walking but John grabs his arm, “I’m fine, John. Really.”

“Alex, it’s okay to be exhausted. What’s going on?” He stares at Alex earnestly, asking to be trusted with whatever’s bothering Alex.

‘ _Those eyes_ ,’ fills Alex’s thoughts before he quickly shakes his head, “I’m _fine_ , John.”

“Alex, trust me-”

_He can’t know. He can’t know._

_He can’t **know.**_

**_HE CAN’T KNOW!_ **

Alex rips his arm out of John’s grasp, “John! I can deal with this on my own.”

Hurt and anger fill John’s face, “what are you talking about? You don’t have to deal with anything on your own, Alex.”

 _Alex_.

Alexander shakes his head, “yes, I do. I’m fine, and even if I wasn’t I can take care of it. Alone.”

_Please help._

John shakes his head, “but you don’t have to be alone!”

He’s rarely heard John raise his voice.

_I don’t know what I’m doing._

Alex takes a step back, partly out of shock, partly out of defensiveness, “I do, trust me. It’s better for… for everyone if I’m alone.”

John tries to reach out for him before Alex steps back again, “you don’t get it, John! I’m not like you!”

John raises an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”

He clamps his mouth shut and waits a second before spitting out, “nothing.” The meaning wasn’t clear; Alexander didn’t even truly know what he meant. But John saw something in his gaze because he narrows his eyes at Alex, “fine. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you,” Alex says as John turns and walks down the sidewalk. He breathes a sigh of relief while his heart breaks in his chest.

_Please don’t go._

He watches John walk down the sidewalk. The further he gets the further Alex’s heart is pulled from his chest. Every cell of his being aching to run after John, pull him into his arms and never let go. But he doesn’t. He stands there and watches John not look back once.

 _I’m so sorry_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Hello! Short chapter, I know, and I'm sorry, but where it ended seemed like a chapter on it's own and it wouldn't have flowed well with the other part of the chapter. Can you forgive me? For the length and how horrible it is?
> 
> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> Burke's Law is an American detective series that aired on ABC from 1963 to 1965 and was revived on CBS in the 1990s! The show starred Gene Barry as Amos Burke, millionaire captain of Los Angeles police homicide division, who was chauffeured around to solve crimes in his 1962 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud II. There are three seasons and 81 episodes! 
> 
> How are you doing? I hope you're well? I applied to my first choice college yesterday!  
> Also, HOLY SHIT 112 KUDOS AND 1301 HITS AND 16 BOOKMARKS??!! I'm at a loss for words right now. I genuinely appreciate all of this, you all don't understand how much I appreciate each of you. Thank you for everything you do. I'm so grateful for the love and kindness you've been showing me.  
> Anyway, let me know what you think! I hope you have an amazing day/night! <3 :)


	9. The World Seemed to Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> There's mild drug use in this chapter, it will be bolded so you can skip over it :)

Alexander stares long after John is out of his sight, hoping that maybe he’ll turn around and come back. Although he knows that that’s not happening. Part of him hopes he never sees John again. The rest of him feels the guilt like the water he should have drowned in. He struggles to ignore the urge to run after John and forces himself to go to work. The molasses he mentally pushes through is slowly getting thicker as the minutes go by before he has to resist the urge to stop and collapse on the sidewalk.

He doesn’t remember getting to Washington Law or staring up at the steel skyscraper until Washington carefully guides him inside. He doesn’t pulling himself away from Washington’s light grip on his shoulders and sitting at his desk, carefully unlocking the drawer with work. He doesn’t remember ignoring Jefferson’s smirks and Burr’s somewhat concerned glances as he writes. He _definitely_ doesn’t remember breaking down and telling Angelica _everything_ as they on the roof during their lunch break, arms wrapped himself with tears streaming down his cheeks.

John Laurens walks away from Alexander, careful to not let any tears fall as he moves through the city. He has no reason to be crying, he knows that. It’s just, they’d grown close since June, at least, he though they did. It’s easy for him to see that he’d been wrong about the situation, that they clearly did not share the same feelings concerning each other.

He kicks a rock that’s in his path, “it’s not fair to him if I try to force something that has no business existing.” He keeps moving, through the cold November day, trying to think of a place to go. It’s too early to visit Lafayette and Hercules, Maria’s with James, Theo’s either sleeping or at the bookstore, Peggy’s probably sleeping, and John really doesn’t want to clean up the paint spill in his apartment. So, he settles for roaming. Maybe if he walks enough he’ll forget about the man he obviously built up in his head, but it’s hard not to get swept up in the tidal wave that is Alexander Hamilton.

He finds himself in Central Park. Soft music drifts through the air as he walks through the, nearly empty, park. John knows it’s cold, knows, with a glance at the sky, that the snow will be coming soon. Yet, he can’t bring himself to leave the park. Especially when he meets a man sitting on a rock with a guitar sitting in his lap.

The man in question looks up and smiles, _not Alex’s smile that takes his breath away_ , “hey man! I’m Kinloch.”

John raises an eyebrow, “Kinloch?”

Kinloch’s smile remains, John wishes he could stop comparing it to Alex’s, “my last name but it’s better than my first. What’s yours?”

“John.”

He winces, “can I call you by your last name?”

_No_ , “sure. It’s Laurens. John Laurens.”

Kinloch smiles again and John slowly returns it, “well, Laurens, sit down. I was just practicing a little.” He slides over on the rock to make room and John sits down next to him, the chill quickly seeping through his pants. “Do you play?”

“Sort of, I-”he doesn’t even finish his sentence before Kinloch’s shoving the guitar into his hands. He hesitantly places his finger on the strings, forming the G chord, and strums.

Kinloch’s smiles widens and leans over to adjust his fingers slightly, “you’ve definitely got something there. Do you know any songs?”

His mind flashes back to the night on the roof with ‘ _Love Me Tender_ ’ and quickly shakes his head, “no, I don’t.”

“Do you mind if I take the guitar back?” Kinloch asks him, gesturing to the instrument.

John hands it over, “what are you going to play?”

Kinloch shrugs, “I’ll think of something.” He begins strumming something. A song that John doesn’t recognize but the melody is beautiful. He watches the blissful expressions on Kinloch’s face as he plays gently, happiness and peace radiating from him. He opens his eyes and looks back at John, “what did you think?”

John grins, “it was beautiful. Good job, Kinloch.”

He returns the grin, “thank you, Laurens.” It’s quiet for a moment before his eyes widen and he quickly digs in his pocket. He pulls something out of his pocket and directs the lightbulb grin, _it’s the sun like Alex’s_ , back to John, “so you want to stick around? I have this.” He sticks out his hand reveals grass in tightly rolled white paper, slightly crumbling in his clammy hand.

“I haven’t smoked in months,” John tells him, fingers itching to pick it up. He hasn’t smoked since he met Alex, the urge to forget about life for a while left. But now the urge is back in full force.

“You in?” he asks, pulling a lighter from his pocket.

“Definitely,” John nods, hoping it’ll help him forget the feeling that he left his heart on the sidewalk when he walked away from Alex.

Kinloch hands it to John, “attractive guests first.”

**John blushes and laughs, not used to the blatant flirting, and puts it between his lips. Kinloch flicks the lighter and carefully lights the joint. John inhales deeply, the slightly sweet smoke filling his lungs as he passes it back to Kinloch. He exhales towards the sky, the smoke pouring out of his mouth like a chimney, before turning back to Kinloch to see him exhaling slowly. ‘ _Indirect kissing_ ,’ John thinks to himself, realizing he said it aloud when Kinloch laughs and passes it back to him.**

**They pass it back and forth until it’s nearly gone. “Come here,” Kinloch says. He inhales as much as he can, grinds it out on the rock, and turns to John. John leans forward and Kinloch rests his hand on the back of John’s neck, he leans forward and exhales into John’s mouth. The smoke moves between them before John turns and exhales evenly. John feels giddy but relaxed, like he’s floating on the ocean. Except the ocean’s made from cotton candy and he can also eat it without dying. He feels his thoughts going on a tangent and turns back to Kinloch, both of them with red eyes and flushed faces.** “Laurens,” he says with a grin. “Kinloch,” John replies, the same grin lighting up his face.

One moment, they’re staring at each other and in the next, their lips are locked. John pulls back for a breath before quickly pressing his lips back to Kinloch’s. He pushes forward as John slowly leans back against the rock, and John’s immediately thankful for the emptiness, and relative seclusion, of the area they’re in. Kinloch’s lips are soft, warm even, as they kiss in the cold park and he kisses with a practiced precision. As if he knows exactly what he’s doing and how to do it. He rests one of his hands on John’s side, deepening the kiss between the two men.

John wraps his arms around Alex’s-

His eyes shoot open.

‘ _No, not Alex. Dammit John, what are you doing?!’_

He quickly scrambles away, “I, uh, I have to go.”

Kinloch nods, and smiles at him with kiss bruised lips, “see you around.”

John nods and walks away from him, when he’s out of eyesight, he runs. He needs to get home. Yes, home is safe. But Avenue C is too far away to walk, it’s an hour and a half from central park, _he can’t run that_. He tries anyway. John gets barely halfway before he has to stop and nearly collapses. He’s struggling for breath on the sidewalk and waves down a taxi, stumbling into one when it pulls up next to him, “corner of east 8 th and Avenue C, please.” The driver looks back at him, an eyebrow raised, and nods. Slowly pulling away from curb and driving down the street, “are you alright?” comes a thick Polish accent.

John’s next door neighbor is Polish.

He nods, realizes that the woman probably can’t see him, and says, “not really.” _FUCK_!

“Whatever it is, it will turn out just fine,” she tells him, glancing at the rearview mirror before focusing on the street.

“I don’t think it will but thanks,” John replies and looks out the window for the rest of the wide. The snow spotted city passing by in a blur. Couples holding hands and laughing under the Christmas lights strung up around the buildings. His heartrate, and breathing, slowly return to normal.

When they pull up outside the building, he quickly pays her and rushes into the brick building, door slamming shut behind him. He runs up the stairs to his apartment but is stopped in the hallway by a little girl with light brown hair and a flower print dress, “cześć, John!”

He takes a deep breath and forces a smile on to his face, “cześć, Tońka. Jak się masz?”

There’s a tinkling laughter at his choppy pronunciation but, before she can respond, her name is called from inside the apartment. She waves at him with a bright smile and makes her way inside, pushing the door shut behind her. John goes into his apartment, and grabs the phone in the living room, hopping over the spilled paint in the process.

“C’mon John, think! What’s Laf’s number?” he mutters to himself, not caring that Lafayette may still be asleep. He flips through the notepad by the phone, finds it circled about five times and dials quickly.

“Allô?” comes a voice thick with sleep.

“Lafayette!” John shouts down the receiver. Judging by the noises coming from Laf’s end, he must have jumped and dropped the phone. There’s shuffling and a whisper that sounds like, “it is John, mon cher. Go back to sleep.”

Lafayette picks the phone up and, sounds slightly more awake, says, “what is going on?”

John takes a deep breath and launches into the story, “I went to Alexander’s this morning so I could walk him to work and everything was going fine, and I can’t remember what caused us to fight, but we started fighting and went our separate ways and now he hates me. I don’t even remember what was said or if anything was extremely bad. I didn’t want to wake you up and I didn’t want to go to my apartment so I kind of wandered around the city? Then I ended up in Central Park and-” he stops to take a breath.

“Mon ami,” Lafayette speaks up, “I do not exactly understand what you’re saying. I will be at your apartment soon, you are there yes?”

John nods before quickly saying, “yes, I’m here. Here at my apartment. My apartment being the place I’m at.” He forces himself to stop talking before saying, “yes.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Lafayette laughs, “give me half an hour, mon ami. “ There’s a click and John carefully places the phone back on the receiver. He sinks down on the sofa, body feeling heavier, and finally feels the tears start pooling in his eyes. Lafayette’s coming; he’ll be able to tell someone. Someone who will understand and _help_. That’s what John needs, someone to help him. So he remains on the sofa until there’s a knock at the door. He gets up and walks over to the door, the entryway feeling longer and longer the ‘closer’ he gets to the door. Eventually, he somehow reaches it and pulls it open, “Lafayette,” he gets out in a whisper before he’s crumbling to the floor and crying.

Lafayette sits down next to him and pulls him into his arms, “sshh, sshh it will be okay.” He strokes his back gently, feeling John’s tears soaking his shirt as he shakes in his arms. Lafayette carefully stands up, keeping John in his arms, and closes the door behind them, “we are going to move to the couch. Can you do that?” John nods and they slowly make their way to the sofa and fall on to it. Lafayette ignores the smell of grass that’s settled into John’s clothes and pulls him closer.

After a few minutes, John pulls away and sniffles, “sorry about your shirt.”

Lafayette shakes his head, “I do not care about my shirt. I care about mon frère. Tell me, what is in your head?”

John wipes his eyes, “where did I end on the phone?”

Laf pushes back the curls that came loose gently, “I believe you said something about Central Park?”

John nods, “right. So I went to Central Park and found a guy playing guitar. I wasn’t looking for anybody and he didn’t make me really feel anything but he was nice and he played me a song. I uh… I smoked with him and then we… we kissed.”

“John,” Lafayette speaks up, sounding disappointed, “who was it?”

“He said his name was Kinloch. I left because I,” he shakes his head quickly but Lafayette seems to understand what happened because the disappointment melts from his gaze and is immediately replaced with sadness. “Look, it’s not a big deal.”

“You were crying, mon ami. Of course it is a big deal,” Laf protests.

“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” John says slowly, unsure of what he wants to say.

Lafayette nods, “and that is okay. I do not know what to do either, petite tortue, but I will be here with you until we do.”

“I fucked up, Laf. You don’t understand how badly I fucked up,” he rests his forehead on Lafayette’s shoulder. “You didn’t see his face. He looked so… angry and heartbroken. Like he felt the complete opposite of what he saying but he had to say it anyway. I shouldn’t have left. I should have argued with him or done something. Dammit, Laf.”

Lafayette resumes rubbing his back, “John, you did what you had to do. I cannot tell you if it was the right thing to do because that is your decision to make.”

John nods, “I know. I just,” he sighs, “I don’t know what do now.”

“Did you like kissing Kinloch?”

John snorts, “no. It was too… precise? And… and,”

“And it wasn’t Alexander?” Lafayette guesses.

John nods sadly, “is there something wrong with me?”

“No, mon ami, there is nothing wrong with you,” Lafayette tells him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Here’s what we are going to do. We are going to clean up the paint you spilled and then we will invite Hercules and go to the bar you really like.”

“You hate Stonewall.”

“Yes because the alcohol is disgusting and the place is filthy but you love it, so I will tolerate it tonight for you. If you meet someone then… I will root for you.”

John shakes his head, “I don’t want to meet anyone tonight.”

Lafayette nods, “of course. I will not pressure you to meet anyone. Now, first we clean up.”

John nods slowly and stands up, “right, okay. I can do that. Easily.” He walks over to where his canvases are sitting and digs through a container next to it. “Since it’s mostly dry I could probably just scrape it up,” he pulls out a small knife and gets to work scraping at the paint. He digs the blade under the paint and pushes it up, watching as bits of paint flaked off and small bits of wood stain came up with the paint. Lafayette picked up one of the other small knives and joins him on the floor. An hour passes of the two scraping paint off the floor slowly, trying to avoid picking up parts of the floor. John stands up and looks down at the floor, the area where the paint was is definitely noticeable as it’s slightly lighter than the rest of the floor, “I think we’re done.”

Lafayette nods and stands with him, “oui, we are. I will throw the dried paint away. You change.” Lafayette carefully scoops it up and throws it away. When he looks up, John is walking out of his bedroom, “did you change?”

“Yes! How do I look?”

“Like a god,” Lafayette says with a wink causing John to finally laugh.

“It’s too early to go out, Laf,” John says, sitting on the sofa.

“Je sais, John. We are still going to call over Hercules and Pegs and anyone else you want to invite and we will spend time together like a proper family. That is what you need right now. Then we will go out tonight and do whatever you Americans do.”

John raises an eyebrow, “you’ve been here for years, Laf. You’re practically American.”

Lafayette laughs and shrugs, “how does that sound?”

John gives him a genuine smile, feeling his heart slowly pick itself off the sidewalk he left it on, “it sounds amazing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm so sorry for the bad chapter! It's also a bit late so I apologize for that as well.  
> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> Kinloch's an actual dude. Not from the 1960's but he was a friend of Laurens in the 1700's, a huge thing about their relationship here http://john-laurens.tumblr.com/post/145777622748/john-laurens-and-francis-kinloch (also one of my favorite blogs because I love John Laurens so much).  
> This is about drugs in the 1960s (mostly slang) http://beyondchronic.com/2011/07/ask-old-hippie-how-have-words-about-marijuana-changed-since-the-sixties/  
> John lives in 131 Avenue C located in Alphabet City (named because the Avenues are A, B, C, and D).  
> Stonewall was converted to a mafia controlled gay bar in 1967, located in Greenwich Village. More about this will come into play later, trust me.  
> Push button phones were released in 1963. 
> 
> John's neighbor is Polish and I feel like John would be the kind of person to try and learn the language so cześć=hello and Jak się masz?=how are you?  
> Okay, I think that's everything! I'm so sorry about this chapter, it's bad I know. I'm not in the best mental state right now and I'm not trying to come up with excuses for bad writing. Hopefully the next chapter will be much better. Anyway, I hope you're all doing well!! Let me know what you think! Have a wonderful day/night :) <3  
> -Des


	10. The Challenges You're Facing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to saltyspacerock, joliepunk, and my_dearest_laurens_the_war_is_over. Thank you for being so kind and supportive as I write this!!!   
> Anyway, enjoy!!!

Peggy and Hercules arrive at John’s apartment in the blink of an eye. John pulls open the door and Hercules immediately wraps him up in a hug, “how are you doing, man?”

John pulls back from the hug and shrugs, “I could be better but I’m not… terrible?”

Hercules nods and Peggy pushes her way inside the apartment, “Theo said she had to make a phone call and couldn’t make it. James wouldn’t let Maria leave so she sends her love and this.” Peggy stands on balls of her and presses a kiss to John’s cheek and hands him a plastic flower, “it’s too cold for real flowers but she said that one will last forever so you always know that she loves you.”

John smiles, “thank you, Peggy. I’ll have to tell her thank you the next time I see her.”

Lafayette walks over and quickly kisses Hercules, “no negative talk for the rest of the night. Our goal is to make John feel better. Where’s Eliza and Angelica? I’m pretty sure I told you to bring them.”

Peggy winces, “you uh, you did but there’s a problem with that. You see, Alexander,” Peggy doesn’t notice John’s wince at the mention of Alexander, “had a breakdown at work during lunch and it’s not exactly my place to tell everything. They’re very worried about him so they decided to stay with him while he works, especially with the case coming up.”

John feels his heart racing with worry, “is he okay?”  He ignores the look that Lafayette sends him as he stares at Peggy.

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

John nods slowly, “right. Okay, I need to get drunk.”

Hercules raises an eyebrow, “normally I’d be for that but it’s a little too early to be getting drunk, John.”

“I know, I know. I just, I don’t want to think anymore,” John replies, moving back to the sofa and sitting down, as if his body gave out.

Peggy follows him closely behind while Herc and Laf walk a bit slowly. “Are you okay?” she asks him, sitting down beside him on the sofa.

He nods quickly, feeling the couch dip down on his other side as Hercules sits and pulls Lafayette onto his lap, “I’m not sure. I just want to drink and forget and meet other people and-”

“Is this about Alex?” Hercules asks him, looking over.

“No. Well, yes, but I’m not going to sway your opinions of him by telling you what happened. I still want him to be part of group regardless of… anything that may have happened,” John replies, starting to pick at the skin around his nails.

Hercules nods slowly, confused more than anything else, “well, John, he still will be. I care about the kid, even if he’s sort of skittish. Okay, something else had to have happened today that wasn’t about Alex. Tell us that instead.”

“Okay, I can do that. I kissed someone in Central Park. His name was Kinloch and… I panicked-”

“Was he a bad kisser?” Peggy asks.

John laughs, “no? Well, he wasn’t the worst but he was a boring kisser. Way too precise.”

Peggy snorts and nods, “alright. Continue.”

“I panicked and came back here. I called Laf and told him everything, I’m a mess.”

“Mon ami, that’s not a secret. We know you’re a mess,” Lafayette tells him, causing John to smack his arm with a laugh.

“Look, can we just watch cartoons or something? I’m sure some will still be on until we can go,” John says, heading to the tv set in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, go for it,” Hercules responds, leaning back against the sofa with his arms wrapped securely around Lafayette.

“Is it okay with you two?” John asks, glancing at Lafayette and Peggy. He receives shrugs in response so he twists the dials on the small television, stopping when Peggy shouts, “hey it’s The Flintstones!” John turns it up and moves back to the sofa, collapsing between Hercules and Peggy. Peggy throws her legs over his lap and leans against the arm of the sofa.

Hours passed of simply watching whatever plays on the channel, each person too lazy to turn the dials on the television. Hercules leaves at one point, John’s pretty sure it was to buy food but he couldn’t remember even if he was asked. Eventually Lafayette pulls himself from Hercules’ grasp and stands up, “okay, mes amis, time for us to go. Our little John needs to forget things for a while and it is our job to uh,” he pauses for a moment then snaps his fingers, “assist.” Peggy moves her legs from John’s lap and stands up, she takes his hand and pulls him up with her.

“We really don’t have to go out,” John says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hercules shakes his head, “we don’t have to but we’re going to.”

“Come on, I’m sure it’ll great,” Peggy says and starts tugging him to the door, Lafayette and Hercules following closely behind.

“Can we walk? It’s just thirty minutes down East 9th,” John says, gesturing to the side with his thumb as he watches Lafayette pull the door closed.

“Of course we can walk, mon ami,” Lafayette replies, linking arms with John and Hercules, “it’s not a problem.” Even if it was, they probably would have walked anyway. Even though the snow, the color of soot between the road and sidewalk, slowly builds up on the frozen concrete.

John feels the chill seeping through his shoes and coat. He wonders if Peggy’s cold, she’s not reacting to the snow. If Lafayette’s cold he’s certainly hiding it well, John tunes into Laf’s chattering with Hercules. Catching nothing that he could accurately comprehend, he focuses on the feeling of the snow seeping through the soles of his shoes.

They arrive at the brick building with the large vertical neon sign, from the roof about halfway down the building, portraying the words ‘Stonewall Inn’. The building is dirty, blackened bricks decorate the outside as they walk up and trash litters the ground outside. John feels his skin begin to crawl but he knows this is the only gay bar in the city that allows ‘intimate’ dancing, especially between the same sex. He knows about New York’s anti-gay legislation, he knows that bartenders can be arrested for serving gay people, and he knows that Stonewall is mafia controlled because that’s the only way they could get a liquor license. The outer windows are painted black and- Peggy nudges him gently, “John? You okay?”

John jumps but nods, “yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

Lafayette walks up and knocks on the large door. A small window in the door slides open and a door man peeks out, he stares evenly at each of them as he attempts ascertain if they’re police. They seem to pass as the windows latches shut and the door creaks open. The group slips inside to be greeted by a foyer containing a metal box labeled ‘admission charge’ and a book with a worn down pen.

“I will happily pay the admission charge for each of us,” Lafayette says before slipping a wad of bills into the box. He signs his name in the book and steps off to the side.

John steps up next and notes that Laf signed in as “Marie” so John signs in as “Henry A.” before stepping next to him.

When they finish signing in the doorman speaks up, “the front room contains mainstream rock and the main bar. The back room contains soul music. The lights are dim so watch your step and please enjoy your stay at Stonewall Inn.”

The group shares brief glances with each other before moving to the front room. ‘ _Dim lighting’s an understatement_ ,’ John thinks to himself as he enters the room, he can barely see two feet in front of him. Lafayette and Hercules move to the middle of the dance floor and wrap their arms loosely around each other, loose enough that they can move but tight enough that they don’t want to.

Peggy remains by his side as he walks to the bar but, before he can by an expensive and watered down drink, a light haired man slides over to him, “hey, I saw you walk in. Can I get you a drink?”

John looks him up and down, thin face framed by short light hair and a slightly muscular frame. The exact opposite of Alex, “sure. Whiskey.”

The man grins at him, lip gloss glistening under the dim lights, “I’m William.” He says before ordering John’s drink, pushing it to him when it’s placed on the bar.

“Henry,” John says with a smile as he picks up the slick glass, “what are you doing here?”

William takes a sip of his own drink, “I dance. Most of my make up’s off but I work here.”

“That’s interesting. Do you like it?” John asks him, placing the glass back on the bar and leaning against the wood.

William nods, “for the most part, yeah. The raids get old fairly quickly, though. I wish the police would leave us alone.”

John clenches his fists tightly, “I know what you mean.” He thinks about how Alex would be immediately talking about this, words pouring out of his mouth faster than he can think about them. He shakes his head quickly, “this may be too forward of me but would you like to dance?”

William grins at him, “I thought you’d never ask, Henry.” He downs the rest of his drink and sticks out his hand.

John tosses back the rest of his drink, ignores the look Peggy’s sending him, and takes William’s offered hand. They move to the dance floor and William immediately turns in John’s grip, grinding on John. John closes his eyes tightly, trying to lose himself in the dancing. He used to love doing this. Meeting people in bars, giving false names, dancing in the dark before moving to the bathroom where the night ends on their knees in a filthy stall. He doesn’t feel the usual anticipation rushing through his veins; instead it’s dread pooling in his gut. He wonders what Alex’s doing at this time. Is he sleeping? John almost laughs at the thought before quickly sobering, he’s probably with someone. A nice girl he wouldn’t mind being seen in public with.

John feels the man, William, turn in his arms and press himself to John. Their lips meet in the dark, and John resists the urge to push him away and run to his apartment. William presses closer, lip gloss coated lips moving against John’s. He can’t bring himself to be fully into it and maybe William senses it because he pulls away, “are you okay?”

John shakes his head, “there’s a lot going on in my life.”

William’s lips turn up at one side in a sympathetic smile, “I can try to take your mind off of it?”

John can feel Peggy’s eyes on him; he can feel Lafayette searching for him in the dark. He can practically feel the distance between him and Alex as he nods slowly and lets William pull him to the bathroom in the corner of the room.

William pushes the door open and pushes John into an empty stall. Latching the door shut behind him, “if you want me to stop, just tell me.” He kisses John lightly, putting more pressure into it as John slowly kisses back. John rests his head against the stall wall as William kisses down his neck before falling to his knees in front of him. He slowly unbuttons John’s pants before John finally stops him, “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

William immediately pulls away and stands up, “hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He presses a kiss to John’s cheek, “do you want to talk about it?”

John shakes his head, “you can leave, if you’d like. I just want to sit here for a bit.”

William nods, “you know where to find me if you change your mind.” He exits the stall with one last look to John before leaving the bathroom.

John rubs his eyes and exhales slowly, “what the fuck am I doing? I can’t keep doing this to myself!” He slams open the stall door and pushes passed a couple kissing by the bathroom. He looks for Lafayette, eventually finding him talking to Peggy at the bar, “I’m going home.”

Lafayette cocks his head to the side, “what happened?” He grabs a napkin and wipes a bit of lip gloss off the corner of John’s mouth.

“I met a guy and I just… I think I’m going crazy? I can’t stop thinking about Alexander and this…” John sighs, “I need to go home.”

“Don’t worry, mon ami,” Lafayette looks at Peggy who quickly stands up, “I’ll walk you home, John.”

“Are you sure,” John asks, sniffing.

Peggy nods and links her arm through his, “Laf, you stay with Herc. Have fun. Don’t worry, we’ll be safe.” Lafayette watches them exit the bar. They turn towards John’s apartment and it’s quiet as they walk back. John hands Peggy his keys as they climb up the stairs, his hands are shaking too much to even attempt unlocking his door. Peggy takes them with a gentle smile before walking slightly closer to him as they near his apartment. She unlocks the door and John pulls them inside, slamming it closed behind them.

“Am I going crazy, Pegs?”

She shakes her head, “no, you’re not. Sit down, John.” She ushers him to the couch and pulls a blanket over them as they sit down.

He wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her shoulder, “I can barely breathe. There’s something wrong with me.”

Peggy wraps an arm around John and gently rubs his arm, “there’s nothing wrong with you. What happened?”

He sniffles, “you know the beginning. He kissed me, knew I wasn’t in it fully and asked what was wrong. I told him there was a lot going on and he asked if he could take my mind off of it. I agreed because I mean, he was cute, didn’t remind me of Alexander and I just… I couldn’t decline. We went to the bathroom and we got to the point of him unbuttoning my pants and I made him stop because I… I couldn’t go any further than that. I’m going crazy, Peggy.” John feels the tears pour down his cheeks.

Peggy shushes him gently, “you’re not going crazy, John. I’m proud of you for stopping him because you knew you couldn’t go any further.” She presses a kiss to the top of his head, “you’re going to be okay, I promise.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m not sure,” she says with a shrug, “but this could pass.”

“How long will it take?”

“I don’t know, John. You just have to give it time,” she says, nudging him gently and smiling when he looks up.

 

* * *

 

 

“What the hell, Alexander?!” Angelica shouts at him on the rooftop, afternoon sun glaring down on them. Sunlight lighting up the snow on the roof, “why didn’t you talk to me?!’

Alexander scrubs at the tears pouring down his cheeks, “I don’t know! I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on with me anymore. I’m wrong, there’s something wrong with me, I can’t like him.”

“You shut your mouth with that talk,” Angelica says to him, forcing herself to not smack his arm, “there’s nothing wrong with liking the same sex, Alex. You know that.”

Alex practically whines and leans back against the bricks, “Angelica, you don’t understand.”

“Maybe I don’t understand what you’re going through exactly but… Alex, I like to think I’m sane and know what I’m talking about, there’s nothing wrong with you.” She says, leaning back with him and rubbing her temples. “How did you keep this to yourself for months?”

He shrugs, “it’s illegal. I didn’t want the wrong people to find out what was going on with me. They could put me in an asylum or something worse, I don’t know.”

Angelica shakes her head and puts an arm around her shoulders, “look, nothing’s going to happen to you. I won’t let it.”

He pulls his knees up to his chest, “do you mean that?”

She nods, “of course. I’ve got your back, you’re protected at least from the legal side. Washington’s on your side, too.”

Alex snorts, “Washington will fire me if he finds out.”

Angelica actually smacks his head this time, “do you really think that little of our boss?”

He winces and rubs the back of his head, “ouch, what the fuck, Angelica?”

“Washington won’t let anything happen to you either, Alexander.” Angelica says, raising an eyebrow at him and daring him to challenge her.

He nods, “okay, I believe you. Damn, stop hitting me, please.”

Angelica stands up and offers a hand, “come on, we have to get back to work. Then after work, you’re coming home with me and we’ll eat dinner with Eliza and talk.”

Alexander bites back a snide remark, appreciating the help, and nods, “I’d like that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that Dad’s not home. Then we’ll break out that weird wine you like,” Angelica says, moving the brick that they had used to crack the door open and heading inside.

“It’s not a weird wine just because you don’t like the taste of it,” Alexander says, following behind her after pulling the door shut and latching it.

Angelica snorts, “it definitely is.”

They make their way back to the offices, “don’t we need to start our late nights today?” Alexander asks her as they near his desk.

She shrugs, “yes but I’m sure Washington will understand. I’ll talk to him, don’t worry.”

“I think we should stay and work, Angelica,” he responds, crossing his arms.

“You’re not backing out of the dinner already. It’ll be good for, Alexander,” she replies, pushing him into the seat and walking to Washington’s office. Alexander watches her shut the door behind her and can tell that Washington will get an earful if he doesn’t immediately agree.

He sighs and pulls open the bottom drawer of his desk. As he pulls out a stack of files, a small photo flutters to the floor. Alex picks it up and sees a picture of him, with the rest of the group pushed close together, sitting in Central Park. It was hot the day and he remembers John bringing the camera because he had some film he wanted to test out. He remembers wondering if the moon ever got jealous of John’s hair as he watched the sun get caught in his curls. Alex stares down at the photo in his hands; he focuses on the look on his face as he stared at John whether than the camera that a stranger had held in their grasp.

He quickly looks away as he feels the tears pool in his eyes, not willing to ruin the ink on the instant film. He slips the photo back into the drawer and holds his face in his hands, “god, I was so obvious.” He kicks the drawer shut with his foot and rubs his face roughly. He hears the distinct sound of Washington’s office door opening and quickly opens the first file. He can feel the tears still slipping down his cheeks but he knows that no one can see if he’s buried in his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever forget you're an actual person? Like that's been going through my head lately and it keeps throwing me for a loop when someone says my name or even just talks to me because I like genuinely forget that I exist. It's weird.   
> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> -Stonewall Inn was actually mafia controlled because that was the only way they could get a liquor license. They were the only bar in NYC, at the time, that had an intimate dance policy. They ran cups through water then reused them, the alcohol was extremely overpriced and watered down, and they paid the police off. Though they were still prone to raids, the bar was a favorite among the LGBT community because of the dance policy. http://s-media.nyc.gov/agencies/lpc/lp/2574.pdf  
> -It was actually illegal for anybody who was homosexual to be congregate in bars and be served alcohol, and you'd be arrested if you were found to be doing so.   
> -The first instant camera was invented in 1923 by Samuel Shlafrock! BUT American scientist Edwin Land unveiled the first commercial instant camera, the model 95 Land Camera, in 1948, a year after unveiling instant film in New York City.
> 
> Raise your hand if respect Aaron Burr as a person and think he got the short stick in history.   
> *raises hand*   
> Honestly, he was a pretty rad dude, I could go on for ages about everything he did/tried to do.   
> Anyway, I've been really sick. I was home sick for like two days last week and I almost gave up on this story and there's so much I could tell you all. But I will let you go. Let me know what you think!! Have a wonderful day/night!! :D <3  
> -Des


	11. Wait For It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happened with Alex during the last chapter.  
> (In need of Beta!)

Angelica walks over to Alex and arrives just in time to see him kick the drawer closed and open the first file on the pile, “I know you’re willing to fight everything, but what did the drawer do?”

Alex jumps before sighing and resting his head on his desk, “what did Washington say?”

Angelica sighs and rests a hand lightly on his back, “he said that it’s fine but he expects us to stay late for the rest of the week.”

He nods as best as he can, “seems fair. I’ll meet you there?”

She snorts and removes her hand, “you’re riding with me. I just got the seats reupholstered so be prepared for the ride of your life.”

Alexander chuckles and looks up, “don’t let Jefferson hear you say that.”

The oldest Schuyler laughs, “careful. You know what they say, ‘speak of the devil and he shall appear’.”

He freezes when he hears a southern drawl speaks up, “Hamilton.”

“You jinxed us,” he hisses with a glare before standing and turning to face the saboteur, “hello nevus.” Angelica snorts but quickly schools her features back to a neutral expression.

Jefferson raises an eyebrow, “my name’s Thomas Jefferson. I’ll have to try harder if you’ve forgotten my name already.”

Alexander rolls his eyes, “I’m well aware of your name but seem to always be here so I just assumed you were a congenital growth.”

The southerner chuckles dryly, “I know English wasn’t your first language,” Alex clenches his fists, “so I’ll forgive this but you forget that congenital growth means ‘at or before birth.’”

It’s Alexander’s turn to raise an eyebrow as he crosses his arms, “well, you are older than me but did I say that you’re my growth?”

Angelica can’t hold back her laughter anymore and she barely registers Alex looking at her with barely concealed pride, while Jefferson looks on with disdain.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he states before turning on his heel and walking to his desk.

Alexander waits until Jefferson sits at his own desk before joining Angelica in laughter. “I can’t believe you said that,” she says, wiping at the tears leaking from her eyes. “In fact, I was expecting worse.”

He clutches his stomach, aching from laughter, “I can definitely do worse.”

Before he can even make a move, her hand is on his shoulder preventing him from doing so, “I definitely believe that but try not to start a fight today.”

Alexander feels thin tendrils of anger shoot through his veins, “but he didn’t even greet you.”

Angelica rolls her eyes, “I appreciate it but I don’t need you to defend my honor. I’ll kick his ass later.”

He shrugs off her hand and sits back down, “I will fight him.”

“I don’t doubt that, Alexander,” comes a stilted voice to his right.

“Burr.” Alexander says, straightening his spine, “if you are here to lecture me about the way I spoke to Jefferson, I would like for you to turn and leave right now.”

Angelica coughs loudly and what sounds suspiciously like “Alexander!” comes out.

Burr faces her, a smile already in place, “Miss Schuyler. A pleasure as always.”

“Burr, we’re colleagues. Angelica’s just fine,” she responds, shaking the hand he offers as they ignore Alexander’s pouting. “I literally saw you two days ago. How was your weekend?”

Aaron lets the smile become slightly more genuine, “I see. Please accept my apologies. It was alright, how was yours?”

“Oh, it was great. I had my car worked on, you know how they can be, and tried out that new diner on East 25th,” Angelica replies; raising her eyebrow  when she mentions the diner and Burr’s smile falls slightly.

“Is there a reason that you came over here, Burr?” Alexander asks, pulling them out of their conversation.

Aaron turns back to Alex and shifts his smiles to a slightly more polite one,  “yes, Alexander, there is. I wanted to offer my help.”

“Your… help?” Alexander replies, stunned before he feels the anger bubble under his skin. **_Pity. Pity. He’s pitying you!_**

Burr holds up a hand, as if to placate a wild animal, and his tone becomes more democratic, “I heard you were going through a tough time and wanted to see if I could help in some way.”

Alexander groans and slams his head on the desk. Angelica takes pity and steps up to the plate, mind poised like a baseball bat as she prepares to swing, “where did you hear that?”

“It’s so much that I heard about it, Miss Schuy- Angelica, it’s that I saw it,” Aaron says, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest protectively.

Alexander freezes, his mind frantically speeding through possibilities before stopping all together at

_He knows_

_Burr knows_

_He knows that I- that John_

_John_

_I have to warn him_

He tunes back in as Burr is answering a question that Angelica must have asked, “-anything. He just seems not fully present, and we all know how passionate he is about law,” Alexander takes pride in that knowledge, “so I wanted to see if there was any way that I could to help.”

“What do you mean ‘help’?” Alexander asks, cutting Angelica off. He quickly sends her an apologetic look before turning back to Burr, who rolls his eyes before speaking.

“Contrary to popular belief,” he says, tone never leaving polite. “I can express concern for others. I’ like to help if I can.”

_I don’t need help_

He can feel Angelica getting tenser the longer it takes for him to respond to Burr. Except he can’t respond, he’s not even sure that he wants to. The frustration of being seen as fragile freezes his veins yet his hands are shaking. Clammy and shaking and he quickly wipes them on his uit pants, leaving a slightly darker mark mid-thigh.

“Alexander?” Burr prompts.

Alexander opens his mouth to respond yet he can’t, he can’t form the words.

_Burr knows_

_Burr knows_

His stomach is churning and he can’t _he can’t breathe_. The room is too small, why is everyone looking at him? A strangled noise escapes his dry mouth and he clamps his mouth shut immediately, humiliation replacing frustration. Aaron Burr’s vaguely exasperated look turns to concern and Angelica drops a hand to his shoulder, asking softly, “Alex?”

_I don’t need **your** help_

Alex is saved from trying to force a response when Miss Elsner, the receptionist from downstairs, pokes her head around the corner and says, “Mr. Hamilton, there’s someone on the phone for you. Says it’s important.”

He sighs and looks over at her, “did they give a name?”

Miss Elsner shakes her head and responds, “just ‘New Yorker Bookshop’,” Burr stiffens, “and said that you’d know what that means.”

Alexander nods, “of course.” He stands up, “if you’ll excuse me” He follows Miss Elsner to the phone and picks it up, “this is Alexander Hamilton.”

“Hey, Alex,” comes a hushed voice from the other end.

He waits until Elsner is focused on her work before saying in to the receiver, “hey, Theo, is everything okay?”

Judging by the rustling she must have nodded before quickly saying, “yes, well, maybe not. I’m not sure.”

Alexander furrows his brows, “what’s going on?”

She takes a deep breath, “I thought about what you said.”

He represses the urge to snort, “Theo, I say a lot of things. You may have to be more specific.”

She laughs and they both can feel the slight change in the conversation, it became friendlier and open. “The thing you said about divorcing Jacques.”

Alex hums in understanding, “of course. Would you like to meet up and discuss it?” He lowers his voice to a whisper, knowing she wants to keep this quiet for now.

She’s quiet for a moment before speaking, “where do you work?”

“Washington Law.”

Her response is immediate, “I can’t.”

Though Theo can’t see him, he raises an eyebrow, “any particular reason why?”

She clears her throat, “no?” It comes out as a question and only serves to heighten Alexander’s suspicion.

“We can meet somewhere?”

“Someone could see, Alex.”

He goes quiet as he thinks of possible solutions to help his friend, “what if I swing by the bookshop before work tomorrow? Around six-thirty?”

“That could work,” Theo replies, voice hesitant as it drifts through the phone. “Don’t tell anyone. I normally don’t care what people think but some people don’t uh… don’t treat women who get divorced fairly?”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Alex promises her, “but if something happens, tell me immediately.”

She agrees before saying somewhat hesitantly, “how much is this going to cost? I don’t know if I’ll have to money to pay you for this.”

Alexander quickly shakes his head, “no no no, Theo. Don’t worry about paying me, just think of it as a friend doing someone for a friend. Okay?”

“Alex! Are you sure? I know that there are lawyer fees and things like that. I don’t want to make you lose money just for me,” she protests.

“Theo, trust me. I’ll take care of it, no worries,” he says with smile, though she can’t see it.

“Are you sure?” She asks, voice cracking slightly.

“I’m positive.”

“Thank you, Alex. I owe you.” Theo says, a smile coloring her voice.

“Anytime, Theo. You don’t owe me anything,” Alex states, feeling his fingers already itching for his pen so he could help his friend.

“Let me buy you dinner at some point, at least?”

“We’ll see,” he says with a laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Theo.”

She laughs, “I’ll see you then, Alex.”

They hang up and Alex turns around, jumping when he sees Burr standing there, “Fucking hell, Burr! What?”

His arms are crossed over his chest and the look in his eyes betrays the typical apathy on his face, “how do you know the New Yorker Bookshop?”

“How long have you been standing there?” Alex asks in return, hand pressed to his chest as if it would calm his racing heart.

Burr shakes his head, “answer the question, Alexander.”

He raises an eyebrow at Burr and makes his way back to his desk, “I have a friend who works there, if you must know. Though I don’t see how it’s any of your business?”

Aaron follows him back to his desk, where Angelica’s sitting and folding one of the blank pages, “is it Theodosia?”

Alexander freezes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Burr. Let it go.”

Angelica looks up, “are you two seriously arguing now?”

“No, we’re not arguing,” Burr replies, sending a look to Alex before making his way back to his desk.

“Angie,” he says with a sigh, “as much as I love origami, can I have my desk back?”

She laughs and stands up, “of course. Have a paper crane for your troubles.”

He takes it gently and carefully places it on his desk, “thanks. How do you even know how to do origami?”

She shrugs, “it’s relaxing and fun to do with my younger siblings. Cornelia was born when was I was twenty so, teaching her how to do it kept her occupied and let me study while she practiced.”

Alexander nods, “that’s nice.” He sits down in his chair and sighs, “we’re still definitely getting together with Eliza after work, right?”

“Absolutely,” Angelica responds, “try to hold yourself together until then.”

Alexander chuckles, “I can’t promise that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Angelica walks over to Alexander’s desk and pulls him up, much to his protests (“Angelica, wait! Just one more sentence!”), “come on, we’re leaving.”

He groans and shoves the files back in his desk, “fine, fine. I’m following.”

She rolls her eyes and links her arm through his, “let’s go.” She guides him through the halls and out to the building, to the filthy parking lot where her car sits. Though he’d never say it, Alexander was grateful. She pulls open the passenger side door for him. “Shouldn’t I be opening your door for you, Angie?” he asks.

“No,” she responds simply before gesturing for him to get into the car.

He shrugs and slides in; Angelica closes the door and gets in on her side, “don’t forget your seatbelt, Mr. Safety-Isn’t-Necessary.”

He rolls his eyes and buckles his seatbelt, “happy?”

She nods and buckles her own, “very. Thank you.” She starts the car, the engine jumping to life beneath her fingertips. Pulling out of the parking lot, Angelica spares a glance at him, “what do you think?”

“Of what?” He asks, hands resting in his lap.

“The car,” she clarifies before focusing back on the road. She taps her fingers on the steering wheel, smooth pale pink leather stretched across the wooden surface. The car itself is a light blue color, ‘ _turquoise_ ’ a voice that sounds suspiciously like John’s supplies, with a what appears to be a white wing painted from the front wheels to the middle of the doors. The steering wheel may be pink but the rest of the interior is soft yellow leather. “It’s not real leather, by the way,” Angelica states, sensing his vague discomfort, “Peggy wouldn’t let me ask for real leather. Something about it being unfair to animals.”

Alex nods, “it’s colorful?”

Angelica laughs and nods, “yeah, you could say that. I let Eliza pick the exterior paint color and Peggy pick the interior. It’s like I get to keep my sisters with me, even if it’s just their favorite colors.”

He frantically tries to think of things to talk about involving cars but that’s one of the few things he never bothered to study.

“You don’t know anything about cars, do you?” Angelica asks after a few short moments of silence.

Alex sighs in relief, “no. But it’s a nice car!” He tries to quickly reassure.

She laughs, “I know. You don’t have to reassure me, Alex. It’s a 1960 Chevrolet Corvette; there have been quite a few updates on it to make it safer for me and any passengers. Father almost refused to allow me to leave the apartment after all that news came out about how unsafe cars are.” Alexander nods in agreement, trying to file all the new information away.

“Anyway,” Angelica continues, “there was a long list of new standards and regulations for cars, which was released not too long ago, and when I took it to the dealership to be reupholstered they had to do quite a bit of updating. It has anchorages for shoulder belts and seats, safety door latches and hinges, dual brakes,” she stops at the light and shifts gears, “new tires and rims because of updates safety standards on those. New turn signals since they had to be visible from the sides, I don’t know why but,” she shrugs and continues, “rear window defoggers and non-rupturing fuel tanks and pipes.”

Alexander clears his throat, “that’s a lot of information.”

She parks at The Dakota and looks over at him, laughing at the look on his face, “you look like a regular fish out of water. Did I succeed at getting your mind off what happened today?”

His eyes widen, realizing his nerves had long since settled and his mind was calm for the first time that day, “you did… thank you.”

She smiles, “good. I took the long way home.” She gets out of the car, locks it, and heads to the entrance, Alexander quickly following. She nods at the doorman who smiles and pulls open the door for them, “when was the last time you were here?”

Alexander shrugs, “um, last year I think? It’s been awhile.”

They step into the elevator and make their way upstairs, “I think we’ve updated the kitchen and got new sofas since the last time you were here.” Angelica tells him, pulling her keys out of her purse. “Eliza’s already inside with dinner and wine. I called her a few hours ago to let her know, and it’ll just be the three of us. Peggy’s out for the night and the rest of the family is back in Albany.”

Alexander raises an eyebrow, “back in Albany?”

“Oh,” Angelica responds as she unlocks the door, “they visit for the summer. I forgot to tell you, they went back up last month, so when I said that I’d make sure father’s not home, well, he definitely isn’t. They usually stay longer but mother’s pregnant again so they have to be careful.”

Alexander’s eyes widen, “Mrs. Schuyler’s pregnant? How is she?”

“Well, I called yesterday and she seemed to be doing okay. Like I said, they’re being very careful.” She closes the door behind them and kicks off her shoes, “Eliza! We’re home!”

Alex manages to kick his own shoes off before Eliza’s in his arms, “hey, Alex! How was work?”

Alexander laughs and spins Eliza around before setting her back down on her feet, “it was okay, thank you. How’s the orphanage?”

Eliza grins, “oh, you wouldn’t believe. There are lovely children there, some even remind me of you, and the rest of our friends. There’s this one-”

“Eliza,” Angelica interrupts with a grin, “maybe tell him all about it after we sit down?”

Eliza nods and ushers them towards the family room, “I wish I were sorry, but yes, sit down.” She walks back to the kitchen, grabs the plates and sits them on the coffee table. “Wine?” At their nods, she grabs the wine glasses and one of the bottles of wine before setting the wine glasses next to the plates. “Okay, Alex, tonight is about you. First, we get you drunk off of wine and good food. Then, you spill everything that you and Angelica haven’t already told me.” She fills each wine glass to the brim.

“But,” Alex protests, “I want to hear about the orphanage.”

She looks up at him and her gaze softens, “I’ll tell you all about it in the morning, if you’re not too hung over.” She sits down on his left and picks up her plate, “first though, we eat. Don’t want tears to spoil the food.”

He chuckles and picks up his own plate, “fair enough. Angelica, any interesting stories?”

Angelica snorts, “Alex, all of my stories are interesting. There was this guy, who was in the breakroom while I was getting coffee, who had the audacity,” Alexander picks up his fork as he listens to Angelica’s story, twirling pasta around the metal before lifting it to his mouth. He watches Angelica’s hand gestures before she nearly knocks over her plate and she makes sure to hold the plate in her lap. He lets Eliza’s voice flow over him as she responds to Angelica’s story, laughter filling the air. Eventually, Alex feels Eliza take the, surprisingly empty, plate from his hands and replace it with the still full wine glass.

He drinks it. It’s refilled. The taste of sweet grapes and flowers pass over his tongue. It’s refilled. He watches Eliza open another bottle and his mind feels hazy and warm, but his vision is sharp. It’s refilled.

He swirls his finger around the room of the glass, the sharp note spilling into the air as Angelica and Eliza share a concerned look.

“Alex,” Eliza says, placing a hand on Alexander’s arm, “what’s going on?”

He looks up at her and tears fill his eyes, “I really like John’s face.”

She laughs and Angelica snickers, “yes, honey, I know.”

He gazes at her in earnest, eyes widen, “no. I really _really_ like John’s face.”

Both Eliza and Angelica try to school their features to a neutral expression but fail as the snickers fall out, “we _know_ , Alex. It’s kind of obvious.” Angelica says.

“I thought I was doing a good job of keeping it a secret,” Alex moans as he slides down to the floor, wine glass wobbling in his hand. Eliza quickly takes it and sets it on the coffee table, Alex pouts at the loss of alcohol. Eliza slides down next to him and Angelica quickly joins on his other side.

“You know how sunflowers turn to face the sun, Alex?” Angelica asks him and he nods, confusion evident.

“John’s your sun, it’s very obvious,” Eliza states. “Just from the few times I’ve seen you two in the same room together.” She takes his hand gently and Angelica wraps an arm around his shoulders, “tell us everything.”

“Are you going to paint my nails afterwards?”

Angelica smacks his hand and says, “don’t be sexist,” the same time that Eliza shrugs and says, “I have a nice light blue that I think would look great on you.”

Alex clears his throat, “there’s a lot. You don’t want to hear everything.”

Eliza raises an eyebrow, “I asked, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but-”

Eliza holds up her other hand to quiet him, and says with a warm smile, “then I want to know.”

Alexander sighs and wipes at his eyes, “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“I can take care of that,” Angelica gets up and heads to the kitchen. There are faint bangs and clinks of glass before she comes out with three bottles, “it’s time for the whiskey.” She sits back down and passes out the bottles, keeping one for herself.

Alex twists off the cap and, between sips of burning whiskey, spills his soul for the second time that day. By the end of it, he’s curled up on the floor with his head in Eliza’s lap, sobbing into her pants. Her hand is running through his hair and she looks over at Angelica, the same thought passing through their heads at the same time.

_We have so much work to do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Sorry for the late update!! It's been a long week with midterms and life. I hope you like the chapter! Don't worry, our dear Alex is going to get a break soon. Probably.  
> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> Theodosia did marry very young (at 17) to a Jacques Marcus Prevost. He died of yellow fever though, they didn't get divorced. She was a super cool woman. Theodosia and Alexander (Lafayette and Washington) did know each other as her house was used as a meeting, and resting, place for the revolutionaries. Eventually a headquarters for Washington for a short time.  
> The Schuyler's had 15 children, 8 of which lived to adulthood. Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy (obviously), then there was John Bradstreet Schuyler (1765-1795), Philip Jeremiah Schuyler (1768-1835), Rensselaer Schuyler (1773-1847), Cornelia Schuyler (1776-1808), and Catherine Van Rensselaer Schuyler (1781-1857). Eliza outlived all but one of her siblings (Catherine).  
> Angelica's car: http://www.vettefacts.com/C1/1960.aspx 
> 
> I think that's everything? Also, if you get your hands on a copy of Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, read the chapter about Eliza at the very end. She was the definition of 'pure cinnamon roll', I love her. She was strong-willed, loyal, loving, impulsive, and with a strong sense of justice. She founded the first school in Washington Heights! I could talk about Eliza for ages, like the fact she used to visit her son and would climb fences as a shortcut to his house instead of walking into town for the carriage. I fear that I am not doing her justice.  
> Anyway, let me know what you think. I have a wonderful day/night!! :) <3  
> -Des


	12. Every Action's an Act of Creation

Alexander woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, the urge to vomit, and light blue nail polish on his fingernails. He remembers wine and whiskey so the headache is easy to explain but the nail polish? He can’t recall ever painting his nails. Bangs sound from the kitchen with the sound of loud whistling, he groans and drags himself off the couch. He pads across the polished wood and walks into the kitchen, “if there’s no coffee then I’m throwing myself out of the nearest window.”

Eliza looks down at the teakettle in her hands and whispers, “I just cleaned the windows.” She looks up at him and cracks a smile, “I’m just kidding, there’s coffee behind me. Help yourself.” She grabs two mugs out of the counter and sets them on the counter, humming softly while she pours tea in one of the mugs.

“What time is it?” Alex asks, taking the empty mug she hands to him.

She glances down at her watch, “five thirty.” She spoons a small amount of sugar into the steaming liquid and blows on it lightly, taking a sip when she deems it safe.

Alex winces and pours coffee into his mug, “why are you awake so early? Why tea?”

She raises an eyebrow at his back, “Alex, I go to the orphanage every day at six and I wasn’t in the mood for coffee?”

“Oh right,” he nods slowly, “that makes sense.” He takes a mouthful of coffee and spits it back into the mug just as quickly, waving at his tongue to soothe the burning.

Eliza, mid-sip of tea, snorts and nearly drops her mug on the counter at the burning sensation in her nose, “agh!” Eliza throws a napkin at him when he recovers enough to laugh at her misfortune, which he immediately throws back. They quiet their laughter when they hear Angelica groan and roll over in the living room, “well, we all remember what happened the last time you woke her up.”

Alex sends her a glare, “we don’t speak of that.”

She raises her hands with a quiet laugh, “yes, of course, my bad.” It’s quiet in the kitchen, the only sounds coming from when they sip their drinks. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked about last night,” Eliza says, rinsing her mug in the sink.

“I’m mostly confused about the nail polish,” Alexander says, examining his nails. “It’s not necessarily a _bad_ look.”

Eliza chuckles before turning to face him, “you drank all of your whiskey then finished off mine. You asked if I would paint your nails because you wanted to see the color I mentioned.”

He nods slowly then shrugs, “alright.”

“I have some remover if you’d like it gone,” she offers.

“I think I’m going to leave it,” he replies, with a smile before glancing at the clock. Before he can ask the question that’s risen in his mind, Eliza speaks up.

“I can take you by your apartment so you can get dressed if you’d like, then by the New Yorker Bookshop.”

Alexander freezes, fear flashing across his face, “how do you know about that?”

Concern fills Eliza’s features and she pats his arm, “you mentioned something about having a meeting there with Theodosia, I think? It was so slurred that I barely caught it and Angelica was already asleep so I couldn’t ask her if she understood.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and nods, “okay. Alright, that would be great thank you. Could you drop me-”

“Don’t worry, son, I’ll drop you off around the corner. You don’t want to be seen with mom, I understand,” Eliza says with a laugh, not voicing her concerns.

Alex pulls her to him, causing her to squeak and laugh, and wraps his arms around her in a tight hug, “thank you, Betsey. I don’t deserve you.”

She pulls back and presses a kiss to his cheek, “you say that every time I see you, Alex. Let me grab my keys and we’ll go.” She smooths out the wrinkles in her skirt with a smile, grabs her coat that she had laid on the counter, and walks to her room to pick up her keys.

Alex slips on his own shoes and coat before picking up his briefcase, waiting for his best friend by the front door. She comes around the corner and waves her keys, “found them,” she says with a grin. She slips on her coat and shoes and they make their way to the lobby of the building. “So, are you going to tell me about the meeting?”

Alexander shakes his head, following Eliza to her corner in the corner of the parking lot, “I can’t. I promised that I wouldn’t.”

She nods and unlocks the light blue Cadillac, “it’s alright, don’t worry about it.” Alex gets into the passenger side of the car, and slips off his coat to save time once they arrive at his apartment, watching as Eliza starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. “I don’t know a thing about cars so don’t expect me to talk your ear off about the engine.”

Alex breathes a sigh of relief, “I don’t know anything about cars either, except for extremely specific facts about Angelica’s car.”

Eliza laughs and nods, “me too. All I can tell you about this car is that it’s a 1965 Cadillac Calais and I bought it because I thought it looked cool. Angelica takes it for all of the work it may need done.”

Alexander nods, “I like the color.”

“They asked if I wanted it on the inside too but… I feel like that would have been _too_ much blue, y’know?”

Alexander didn’t know but he agrees anyway and the rest of the car ride passes in comfortable silence until they pull up outside Alexander’s building. “I’ll wait here,” Eliza says, reaching into the backseat for a book, “I don’t know what time your meeting is but I’d recommend hurrying up.”

He gets out of the car, “thanks Eliza,” he shouts over his shoulder as he rushes into the building and up to his apartment. He unlocks the door and pushes it open, slamming it shut behind him before kicking off his shoes and rushing to his bedroom, unbuttoning his stained shirt as he goes. Alex throws open the bedroom door, kicking off his pants at the same time that he pulls on another shirt, buttoning it one-handed as he pulls on another pair of pants. He tucks his shirt into the waistband, takes the belt from his pants and slips it through the loops and tightens, “okay, I think that’s everything.” He slips on a pair of socks, pulls on his suit jacket and rushes out of the apartment, pulling on his shoes as he goes.

Once he gets back outside, his suit jacket is hanging half off and his shoes are untied but he was in and out in five minutes so he’ll consider it a victory. He falls into the car and gets to work on tying his shoes.

“Alex,” Eliza says as she pulls away from his building, “I love you but you’re a mess.”

Alexander laughs as he fixes his jacket and puts his coat back on, “mess is an understatement.”

* * *

 

Eliza parks the car around the corner, just out of sight from the bookstore, “here we are.”

“Thank you, Eliza,” he’s never exactly excelled at showing his thanks but he clears his throat and says, “for everything.”

She smiles, “of course, Alex.” Her smiles falls a fraction, “I don’t know what you’re going to be doing but… be careful. Let me know if you need anything.”

He nods quickly, “always.” He presses a kiss to her cheek quickly and stumbles out of the car, catching his footing by grabbing onto the roof. He can still hear Eliza’s laughter as he knocks on the locked door to the bookstore. The lock clicks and the door is pulled open slightly, “Alex?” a voice whispers.

“You don’t need to be _that_ secretive but yes, it’s Alex,” he says with a smile.

She pulls him in quickly and slams the door shut behind them, locking it immediately. “I have coffee and muffins if you want some.”

“Where did you get muffins?” He asks, following her to the room behind the counter.

“I was too nervous to sleep last night so I baked,” she says, gesturing to the muffins and coffee on the table. “Jacque’s been in Georgia the last few weeks, for work, so I wasn’t worried about being questioned.”

He nods and sits down at the table, “of course. Thank you.” She sits down across for him and he puts his briefcase on the table, “so, what do you know about divorce?” He asks as he opens it.

She shrugs, “not much.” She picks up one of the muffins before immediately putting it back down, electing to fold her hands on the table.

Alexander hums and picks up some papers, “I would be surprised if you did. Last year there were only 479,000 divorces and 1,800,000 marriages.” He clears his throat as he sets his briefcase on the floor and spreads out the pages, “I’m going to be honest with you, Theo. This will be hard.”

She nods, “I figured as much. Can you just give me the facts?”

“That I can do,” he hands her one of the papers and says, “up until 1937 there was really only one reason that people could get divorced, or even separated, and that was adultery. In 1937, there was a Matrimonial Causes Act that introduced three more reasons for divorce and they are cruelty, desertion and incurable insanity. People have also gotten divorced for being barren. Though, in New York, the laws are a little different.” He hands over another paper, “At-fault divorces, the only kind currently available, can be obtained on the grounds of cruel and inhuman treatment, abandonment for a continuous period of one year or more, or imprisonment for more than three years subsequent to the marriage.”

Theo looks down at the papers in her hands, “cruel and inhuman treatment? What constitutes abandonment?”

He snaps his fingers with a grin, “this could be where we win; the abandonment can be literal or constructive.”

“Meaning?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Actual abandonment would be when one spouse leaves the residence without the consent of the other and has no intention to return, or being locked out,” he explains. “Constructive abandonment would be the refusal of,” he clears his throat and air quotes, “’basic obligation arising from the marital contract.’ They usually mean ceasing sexual relation but wouldn’t you say that happiness is a basic obligation in the marital contract?”

A slow grin spreads across her face, “so you’re saying that we could potentially win this?”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up,” he says, making various notes on the papers, “but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“What happens if we lose, though? That could destroy my life,” Theo says, fear coloring her voice.

“If all else fails, we just hop a plane to Reno and stay for six weeks until we can file your divorce,” he chuckles then looks back up at her, “that was a really bad joke. Don’t do that.”

She raises an eyebrow but nods slowly, “right, so no Reno. What do we do now though?”

“Well, I assume this is going to be a contested divorce?” Alexander asks, rearranging his papers anxiously.

“What does that mean?” Theo asks, sliding over a cup of coffee so he has something to do with his hands besides fidgeting with his papers.

He takes it with a murmured ‘thank you’ and responds, “an uncontested divorce is when the parties come to an agreement and submit the papers for approval.”

“So what do we need to do then in a contested divorce? Give me a full run down of what’s going to happen,” she says, picking up her own coffee cup.

“We need to work on the complaint. We have to include factual details and places of occurrence for the divorce. We basically have to prove the allegations to the judge, and if we fail to do this properly then the judge could dismiss this. Jacques is the defendant in this and if this goes through, he’ll be served with a Summons from the court. He’ll have to make an appearance or he’s at risk of having the plaintiff, you, granted the divorce by default,” Alexander explains, gesturing to the papers in her hand.

“Since he’s in Georgia, what happens if his papers get lost in the mail? Would I be granted the divorce then?”

“I didn’t think of that,” Alex taps his pen against the table for a moment, lost in thought. “I think, because he’s not in the state, they may not file the divorce right away, which will give us more time to form a more cohesive argument. When is his due back?”

She gets up and flips through a calendar sitting on the counter, “February,” she says, turning back to him.

He nods and quickly writes it down, “so, we file in February?”

Theodosia lets the smile slip back onto her face, “Alex, give me your honest opinion. Do I have a shot at winning this?”

He stands up, “Theo.” He grins, “you have a shot at winning this.”

Her smile’s brighter than the sun rising in the sky as she launches herself at Alexander, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “Thank you so much, Alex!”

He laughs and returns the hug, “you’re my friend, Theo. Anytime.”

Theodosia pulls away from the hug and quickly wipes her eyes, feeling a relief she hasn’t felt in years, “what do I do until then?”

“Lay low? Keep this quiet, would be my best bet,” Alexander says. “You had the right idea with keeping this quiet for now, it would be much safer for you because, like you said, treatment of divorced women isn’t the greatest. I’ll change that though, you have the right to make these decisions,” Alex promises.

She smiles at him and checks the clock, “you should probably get to work, don’t want you to be late.”

He nods and stuffs the papers back in his briefcase, “when do you want to meet up again? So we can work on this?”

“Same time next week?” She asks, “I’ll bring muffins and coffee again.”

Alex laughs and nods, “sounds like a plan, Theo. Have a great day.” She wishes him the same and he exits the small bookstore, walking down the street before hailing a cab to Washington Law.

* * *

 

He stays after work that day with Angelica and Washington, the latter giving him a strange look at the polish on his nails but not questioning it, scanning the information on the Career Girl Murders.

“What do you mean ‘he confessed to the murders’?!” Angelica shouts, gripping her file tightly in her hands.

“Miss Schuyler, we’re trying to prove his guilt, why are you upset?” Washington questions, raising an eyebrow at her.

She takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, “I’m not upset about him confessing, I’m upset about the way he confessed. Alex, surely you understand.”

Alexander nods, “sir, he confessed to the murders while on heroin withdrawal with no attorney present. Technically, we can’t count this is a confession.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to,” Washington says, rubbing at his temple, “Whitmore was proven innocent and we have the fact that Delaney placed him at the crime.”

“He wasn’t a witness to the crime, sir,” Alexander speaks up. “He gave up information in a plea bargain to get less time for his murder trial. He said that Robles showed up at his apartment covered in blood, demanding drugs and saying,” he looks down at the paper in his hands, “’I just iced two dames.’ Whatever the hell that means.”

“It means he killed two women,” Angelica speaks up, muffling her snickers behind her hand.

“Can’t he just say that?”

“Well, he did, just not clear as day as you would like,” she says, before turning to Washington, “not to mention that the police fitted him and his apartment, and Robles’ apartment with mics so they could hear if they talked about the murders-”

“Which they did,” Alexander interrupts.

“Isn’t that technically unconstitutional?” Angelica asks.

Washington watches them talk, a small smile on his face before he shakes his head, “you are aware that we are trying to prove his guilt, correct? Not get him off from technicalities.”

“Shouldn’t this trial be completely legal?” Alex asks.

They argue back and forth on the point of the trial until Washington finally stands and dismisses them. With the clock nearing eleven o’clock at night, they exit the building exhausted. Angelica gestures for him to follow her to her car and he does, too lost in thought to even attempt an argument. She drives him home, telling him to actually get some sleep that night. He doesn’t but it’s that the thought that counts.

The month passes by in that fashion until a Thursday where the office is closed and Alexander can’t remember why. Nearly every store he passes by is closed and, when he gets to his apartment, the apartments around his are filled with laughter and the strong smells of cooking. He knows he’s forgetting something but he _doesn’t know what_. He closes the door behind him and throws himself on the couch, not bothering with his shoes or coat, running through any important events in his head. It doesn’t hit him until it’s noon and someone’s knocking on his apartment door. He gets up and walks over to the door, pulling it open, “Eliza? What are you doing here?”

She grins at him, “happy Thanksgiving, Alex!”

His eyes widen, “happy Thanksgiving? I can’t believe I forgot Thanksgiving!”

“Change into something besides a suit and come with me,” Eliza commands.

“What? Why?” He asks, walking backwards as she pushes him into the apartment and closes the door behind her.

“Go on, Alex. We don’t have all day.”

He sighs and walks to his bedroom, pulling out a green sweater and checkered pants. He quickly changes and heads back out, “happy?”

 “Very,” she says before pulling him out of the apartment. He barely has time to lock it behind them before she’s pulling him down to the lobby and outside to her car.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see!” she says with a grin. They get into her car and she continues East 69th up towards FDR Drive.

“I don’t know anyone who lives up here, where are we going?”

“Sure you do,” Eliza says, smiling at him before focusing back on the road. “Lafayette bought an apartment on West 141st and he invited us all to Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I don’t think that invitation included me, Betsey,” Alex says, bitterness filling his voice.

“Considering the fact that he asked us where you were when we got there, I’d assume that it included you,” Eliza states, pressing harder on the gas pedal.

“Oh,” Alex states, cheeks coloring. “I uh, haven’t been answering my phone. Or checking my mail.”

“We know.”

It’s quiet for the rest of the ride until they pull up outside the stone and brick apartment building. Eliza leads the way into the building and up to the apartment. Passing by apartments radiating intoxicating smells and filled with laugher until they hit apartment 31. She knocks and barely seconds pass by until the door’s pulled open and they’re met by a grinning Frenchman.

“Eliza! And you found petit lion! Come in come in,” he gestures for them to enter the apartment and closes the door behind them. He hugs the both of them, Alexander for a few seconds longer, before directing them to the living room.

The closer he gets to the living room, the faster his heart beats. He can hear it pounding in his ears. Knows that something’s about to happen and he _can’t stop it_. Oh god, the living room’s getting closer and he can hear voices. He steps into the room, the conversation doesn’t stop exactly but there’s a change in the atmosphere. His gaze zeroes in on a freckled man with curly hair, a faint smile on his face.

“John.”

It’s silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I hope you enjoyed the update! A bit longer than my usual chapters, and I wanted to write more, but this seemed like a good place to stop it.  
> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> This is Eliza's car. Two different links so you can see the exact blue of the outside and see the interior (because honestly too much blue) http://www.highwayone.com/cgi-bin/classifieds.cgi?cat=&resource_id=13964&header=  
> https://classiccars.com/listings/view/902548/1965-cadillac-calais-for-sale-in-sacramento-california-95818  
> Divorce was extremely tough in the 1960s. New York, while known for being liberal, is notoriously conservative on certain issues. No-fault divorce wasn't allowed in NY until 2010.  
> The Reno thing actually happened quite often in the 1960s. Women would fly to Reno and stay at "divorce mills", establish residency for six weeks, then file for divorce. Alex says not to do that because 1. he wants to help Theo, 2. it wouldn't reflect well on her, 3. judges often refused to accept those (especially in NY) and the separated partners couldn't remarry.  
> http://fiftiesweb.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/1960menpants.jpg (what Alex is wearing (for thanksgiving at Laf's) is on the left and I'm including it because it's beautiful and needs to be seen).  
> http://www.zillow.com/homedetails/100-W-141st-St-APT-31-New-York-NY-10030/2113119336_zpid/ that's Lafayette's apartment!! Though, probably not the same furniture.  
> I hope you enjoyed this!!! My birthday's on Sunday so I won't be able to update then. I know I asked this once but would you like me to link my Twitter? I hope you all are doing fantastic!! Let me know what you think. Have a wonderful day/night :D <3  
> -Des


	13. Waves a White Handkerchief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's dedicated to TheMightyOakTree because they're amazing and A+

The silence is deafening as John’s faint smile falls and he looks up to meet Alexander’s gaze. His eyes are hard, the color of frozen concrete, cold and unforgiving, and Alex knows that it’s all his fault.

“Alex,” John spits his name like a gun shot, sharp and stinging. He flinches back, he knows he should leave, _knows_ that this won’t solve anything, but he can sense the challenge. So, Alex stands up straight and resists the urge to clench his firsts at his sides, but he doesn’t move. John doesn’t look away from Alex, doesn’t even flinch when Peggy clears her throat and says, “I think Lafayette needs help in the kitchen.”

Theodosia jumps up, “I’ll join you.” She pulls Hercules out of the room when she follows Peggy.

Angelica looks down at her half full wine glass and finishes it in two quick swallows before standing up, “I appear to be out of wine. Excuse me,” she walks out of the room and taps on Eliza’s arm as she goes, encouraging her to follow.

Ignoring Laf’s squawk of “this kitchen is _not_ big enough!”, Eliza states, “I never got wine,” and quickly follows Angelica to the kitchen. The room is empty, save for Alex and John. Alex steps further into the room and John steps back, though the distance is the same it feels as if it’s slowly growing.

When Alex takes another step, and John steps back, he holds up his hands, “please, just, hear me out. I’m sorry.”

John rolls his eyes, “you’re sorry?” He sounds frustrated and hurt but doesn’t move when Alex walks closer.

Eventually, Alex is standing in front of John and he resists the urge to take his hands, “I’m sorry, John.” The apology burns his tongue as it bubbles up from his throat, like the cheap whiskey he’d drink in college. He’s not used to apologizing and genuinely meaning it. He wants John to forgive him, no, he _needs_ John to forgive him. He needs it like the trees in Central Park need the sun. He needs it like a baby needs the gentle touch of their parents. “I’m so sorry about what I did to you, about what I said.” Alex’s eyes haven’t left John’s face once, “you didn’t- don’t deserve that. If you can’t forgive me then I understand but I,” he pauses. He’s already apologized so much, what else is he supposed to do?

John sighs but there’s a small smile playing at his lips, “I don’t know, Alex.” The forgiveness is dancing behind the light in his eyes, the small sparkle of humor and happiness that’s undeniably _John_.

“I can be, if you want,” Alexander replies, fighting back a smile of his own. Before John can respond, Alex falls to his knees and John gives an over exaggerated long-suffering sigh. He clasps his hands together and says, “John Laurens, my dearest, the light of my life, the most beautiful man I’ve ever met. I’m an incredibly sorry about what I did. Can you please forgive me” Can you forgive my poor unfortunate soul?” He could barely manage to say the last part with a straight face. Alex stares up at John from his spot on the floor and watches as John struggles not to laugh, though his face is a light pink.

It’s quiet for a moment before John bursts into laughter and pulls Alex off the floor, “okay, okay, I forgive you, Alexander.” Alex could barely understand John through the freckled man’s laughter but when he finals does, he grins and pulls John into a tight hug. John’s laughter is startled into silence before he slowly wraps his arms around Alex, hesitantly returning the embrace.

Something coiled tight and hot in Alex’s chest finally loosens, the panic edging away so he can finally breathe again. “I really am sorry,” Alex murmurs in John’s ear, breath ghosting across his skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I know,” John whispers, face buried in the crook of Alex’s neck. “It will take some time,” he continues, “but we’ll be okay.”

Alex lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and tightens his arms around John, neither of them noticing the click and rattle from an instant camera. He squeezes his eyes shut, wills himself to open just a _little bit more,_ and whispers, “do you promise? I don’t want,” he clears his throat. “I can’t- I can’t lose y-” he gives up and turns his face into John’s curls, heart racing.

John lifts his head his up and looks at him, “I promise, Alexander.”

Alex gives in to the grin that’s tugging at his lips until they’re both grinning helplessly at each other as the Huntley-Brinkley Report plays softly on the small television in the corner. A short segment on the Vietnam War that has the grin on John’s face slowly fading. John opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by Peggy wandering back in to the room with two wine glasses, “did you two kiss and make up?”

John quickly rolls his eyes and says, “Pegs, it’s not like that. We’re not-” He’s silenced by Alex pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah, we did,” Alex says, watching the pink rise in John’s cheeks before looking over at Peggy.

Peggy’s watching them with wide eyes and a smile slowly spreading across her face. She holds out the two glasses of dark red wine, “you’re reward.”

Alex doesn’t notice John resting his fingers on his cheek, as if the pressure will keep the kiss on his heated skin, as he reaches for the wine glasses. “Thank you, Peggy,” he says with a soft smile before handing a glass to John.

The aforementioned man takes it and says to Peggy, “if everyone’s done eavesdropping, you’re more than welcome to join us.”

Peggy clears her throat and crosses her arms, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She raises her voice slightly, in the hopes of covering the rustling and hushed argument just outside the room, “I bring you wine and then you accuse us of-” Before she can finish her sentence, Lafayette crashes to the floor with Eliza sprawled on top of him.

“Wow, Laf!” Eliza says loudly. “You were right! The floors look brand new.” Alex looks at Peggy with a raised eyebrow and gestures to the pair sprawled on the floor before looking back at them.

“Thank you, mon ami,” Lafayette replies around a groan of pain.

“The jig’s up,” Angelica says, walking around them into the room. “You two were found out.”

Eliza rolls off of Laf and sits up. Rubbing her forehead, she says, “you were eavesdropping too, Ange.” She leans back and looks down the hall, “you two, Hercules.”

“Don’t call me out, Eliza. I was hoping they wouldn’t know,” groans Hercules as he makes his way down the hall.

She looks up at Alex and John with a sheepish grin, “sorry?” Angelica snorts and takes a seat on the sofa, leaning back and crossing her legs.

Alexander laughs and walks over to Eliza, “it’s fine, Betsey.” He offers her hand, which she takes gratefully, and pulls her up. Quickly doing the same to Lafayette at his grumbles, “I’d never forget about you, Laf.”

The Frenchman rolls his eyes then plants a kiss on Alex’s cheeks, “thank you, petit lion. Now go and spend time with your John, I have Thanksgiving dinner taken care of.” He nearly misses Laf’s whisper of, “at least, I hope so,” as he walks back to the kitchen.

Alex shrugs and moves back to John, who immediately falls onto the couch and pulls Alex with him. Through their laughter, Alex almost misses the look that the Schuyler sisters share. Almost.

* * *

 

Just as Lafayette puts the last plate on the table, there’s a frantic knock on the door.

“Please be in there!” A voice shouts from the other side of the door and Eliza drops her, thankfully empty, glass on the floor in her rush to open it.

“Maria?! What’s going on?!”

Maria slams the door shut behind her and leans against, breathing heavily, “I… I ran here.” Struggling to catch her breath, she says, “James… drunk… passed out.” A thin stream of blood trickles out of her nose as she sways in front of them.

Eliza rushes to her side and wraps an arm around her waist, “are you okay?”

She nods slowly, “I’m oka-” she sways and falls against Eliza.

“Someone help me!” She shouts as she struggles to half carry half drag Maria to the couch. Alex jumps to life and quickly hands his glass to the startled John. He rushes to Eliza’s side and puts one of Maria’s arms around his shoulders, “Laf, grab a blanket and towels you don’t mind getting dirty!”

Lafayette rushes to a closet in the hallway and throws open the door, “any blanket?!”

“Yes!” Alex shouts over his shoulder before helping Eliza lay Maria over the couch. He kneels down and presses a hand to her forehead, “she’s freezing.” He rubs his eyes, ‘ _I don’t know anything about medicine,_ ’ he thinks scornfully to himself.  “We need to call a doctor.”

John takes a deep breath and places the glasses on the end table before kneeling next to Alex, “I’m sort of a doctor?”

“I thought that you’re an artist?” Alex asks with a raised eyebrow.

John nods, “I am, but I dropped out of medical school after a year. It’s a long story, do you want my help or not?”

Alexander nods quickly, “please,” and moves out of the way.

“Okay,” John takes another deep breath and slowly releases it. “I can do this.” He places his head on Maria’s forehead before shaking his head, “she’s not exactly freezing. She’s clammy which is typical of fainting.” He places his fingers on her wrist, taking Eliza’s arm gently so he can look at her watch, “fast pulse. Could be adrenaline.”

He looks up as Lafayette drops the towels and blankets on the floor next to him. He sifts through the towels and holds up two small white ones, “Laf, I need you to dampen these with _cold_ water. Don’t soak them; just make sure they’re damp.” Lafayette takes them from John and runs off to the bathroom while John makes quick work of removing Maria’s shoes and covering her with the blanket. He asks Eliza to get a cup of water and when she comes back, he picks up a clean towel from the pile and dips the corner into the clean water. He gently wipes at the blood around Maria’s nose until it’s gone and takes the towels from Lafayette. He folds one and places it across her forehead then folds the other one and places it over her neck. After covering her with the blanket, he stands up, “okay, we’ll want water for her when she wakes up but she should be okay.”

They all sit around her, the dinner cooling in the dining room as they wait for her to wake up. Eventually, as she shows signs of waking up, John stands up, “I’m going to go get her some water.” He walks to the kitchen and Alex stands up to follow.

“John?” Alex asks when he sees him gripping the counter with white knuckles. “What’s going on?”

John clears his throat and grabs a cup from the cabinet, “nothing. I’m fine.” He fills the cup with water and turns around, stopping short when he sees Alex standing right in front of him.

Alex takes the cup from him and sits it on the counter; he ignores the part of him screaming to step back

Step _back_

_Step back_

**_Step back_ **

And takes his hands gently, “John. What’s going on?”

John audibly gulps before swaying forward and resting his forehead against Alex’s shoulder, “I just… haven’t done that in a while. Haven’t needed to. Never thought I would again.”

John’s hands are held uncomfortably between their chests so Alex drops them and wraps his arms around John instead. _He’s missed this and John is so warm_. _He was stupid to just push on John away_. _Why did he **do that**? _ “You’re okay,” he whispers.

John nods, “yeah. Yeah.” He pulls away and swipes at his eyes, “I know.” He takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders, “time to face the music, huh?”

Alex sends him a gentle smile and picks up the cup, “ready whenever you are.” He freezes, huh, he really is ready for whatever whenever John is. He shakes his head, much to John’s amusement, and gestures for him to lead the way down the hall. When they arrive in the living room, Eliza’s sitting on the sofa with Maria’s head in her lap. She’s running her fingers through Maria’s hair and looks up when they enter. Alex gestures to them with a raised eyebrow and Eliza blushes brightly before looking away causing Alexander to grin before handing the cup over.

Maria sits up slowly before Eliza hands the cup to her, “sip slowly. Don’t make yourself sick.”

She nods and takes a sip, “what happened?”

“You fainted,” Eliza supplies.

“Right into Eliza’s arms,” Peggy adds.

Maria’s eyes widen and she looks at Eliza, “I’m so sorry!”

Eliza waves away her apologies with a smile, “don’t worry about it. One time Alex threw up on me,” Alex groans, “so I’d rather have fainting. Not that I want you to faint or anything, I was just saying-”

Maria cuts her off with a soft “thank you” and a smile.

“How many times do I have to apologize for that?” Alex asks, holding his head in his hands as his face burns. “It was two years ago.”

“Basically,” Peggy says, “no matter what you do, Alex has probably done worse.”

Hercules sits on Maria’s other side and says, “what happened, Maria? When you got here you started bleeding then fainted. Was it?” He lowers his voice, “did James do something?”

Maria shakes her head, “Herc, I love you, but I just… I can’t talk about it right now. Please.”

He nods slowly, “okay. But you’re staying here tonight and we’re gonna talk.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Maria,” Theo says as she kneels down in front of her, “when James passes out, you know he’s out for hours. It’s five right now. I don’t think he’ll notice that you’re gone.”

She winces but nods, “you’re right. Are you staying tonight?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Please,” she whispers.

Theo nods and smiles, “then, of course I’ll be here, darling. Now,” she stands up and pulls Maria up with her carefully, “Lafayette made a wonderful dinner for us all and it’s not going to waste. Lafayette, please put out a plate for Maria.”

Lafayette stands up, “Already done, mon ami. I figured she may show up. There are name cards on the plates so make sure to sit where your name is.”

Alexander follows behind the group as they make their way to the dinner room and looks for his name on the table. He spots his name, resting between John and Eliza, and quickly sits down, exhaustion already sneaking its way through his veins.

The dinner passes by quickly until it’s nine pm and Alex is sprawled on the floor, full and tired. Angelica stands up from her spot on the sofa and says, “I’ve got work tomorrow so, I’ll see you all later?”

Lafayette stands with a grin and hugs her quickly, “Of course, mon ami! Merci beaucoup for coming!”

Angelica pulls back from the hug with a smile, “thank you for having me.” She makes her way to the door before turning around quickly, “Alex, do you need a ride?”

Alex waves his hand, “no, I think I’ll catch a taxi.”

She nods and makes her way out of the apartment, grabbing her coat as she goes. “I think that’s my call, too,” Eliza says before standing up. “Thank you Lafayette. Dinner was delicious. Hercules, I know you made the napkins and tablecloth and they were beautiful.” They thank her with hugs before she leaves the apartment, slipping on her coat as she leaves.

Alex groans and stands up, “alright, I should probably head out.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay longer, mon ami,” Lafayette says, looking up at him with a smile.

He shakes his head, “I’d love to but there’s some work I wanted to get done.”

Laf nods understandably, “I see. Do be careful, petit lion.” He says, standing up and pulling him into a hug. Alex returns it with a laugh before Hercules pulls him into a hug.

“Thank you for coming, man,” Herc says, laughing as Theodosia wraps her arms around the two of them.

“Who doesn’t love a nice group hug?” She asks, grinning as Maria and Laf join the hug. Alex’s laughter quiets down as he feels John’s side pressed up against his the moment that John joins the hug. His face heats up and he quickly looks down, hoping that no one saw. When he pulls away, the look that Theodosia sends him proves that she did see.

He’s heading to the door when John catches up with him, “could I walk you home?”

“I live an hour and a half away walking, Laurens. I was just going to get a taxi,” Alex replies.

John shoves his hands in his pockets and says, “could I walk with you until you get a taxi and then share the taxi with you? I was hoping.” He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, “I was hoping we could talk?”

“Talk?” Alexander asks, palms sweating and heart racing.

“Yeah,” John replies, “you know, people tend to do that.”

Alex rolls his eyes and holds out John’s jacket, “here. Come on.” He slips his jacket on when John takes his coat from him. He shoves his feet in his shoes, “bye!”

“Be safe!” Lafayette shouts back.

John shouts his farewell over his shoulder as they leave and pulls the door shut behind them, “you lead.”

Alex rolls his eyes with a smile and leads the way downstairs and out of the building. The street is silent, halos of light from streetlights illuminating their path. The pair is quiet as they walk down the sidewalk; John rubs the back of his neck, mouth opening and closing occasionally as he tries to figure out what to say.

“Alex,” he starts, before closing his mouth and looking away.

“John,” Alex replies, looking over at him. “Is everything okay?”

He nods quickly, “just… thinking.”

Alexander falls silent and they pass by a taxi, neither of them making a motion to get the driver’s attention. A minute of complete silence passes, not even footsteps break through Alex’s thoughts, when he realizes that John is no longer by his side. He turns around and spots John staring at a poster hanging on the side of a brick building. He walks over to him and stands by his side, “John?”

“It’s ‘Uncle Sam’,” John scoffs. Alex looks at the poster to see an older man with curly white hair and a blue coat. A white top hat rests atop his head with bold black font and a red outline “I Want You For U.S. Army” and just below that reads “Nearest Recruiting Station”. John clenches his fists, “it’s for Vietnam,” he spits out. “As if we’re not doing enough damage with the drafting. Do we really need people enlisting?”

Alex looks over at him, “I don’t understand. Why are you mad?”

“I’m mad because we’re destroying innocent lives,” John says, ripping the poster off the brick.

Alex feels his blood begin to boil; he knows that joining the army is a chance to rise and a make a name for himself, “are you saying you wouldn’t help them?”

John rips the post in half and shoves into the nearest trash can, “you’re damn right I wouldn’t help. I’m not going to kill people to further the government’s agenda.”

“What are you talking about? What agenda?” Alex asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Of killing people and furthering its ideals and desires to be a global super power. I want nothing to do with the government,” John says, beginning to walk again.

“You are aware that I work for the government, correct? I’m a lawyer, in case that escaped your notice,” Alexander replies, following him down the sidewalk.

John rolls his eyes, “for New York City, Alex. Not exactly the federal government.”

It was as if a knife was pushed through his chest, “excuse me?” He shakes his head, “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“You heard what I said.”

Alex closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, before opening them again and staring at John, “do you pay attention to anything outside of New York City?”

John stops walking and turns to face Alexander, “excuse me?”

Alexander stops and faces him, smirking he says, “you heard what I said.”

John crosses his arms and steps back, “No, Alex, I don’t think I did. Can you repeat that?” The ice in his voice seems to lower the temperate around them.

Alex clears his throat and steps closer, “do you,” a pause, “pay attention,” a pause, “to anything,” pause, “outside of,” pause, “New. York. City? Is that clear enough for you?”

John glares at Alexander, “Unlike you, I can keep track of things outside of myself.”

Alexander rolls his eyes, “really, John? Because there’s a war going on, The Peace Corps, WWF, Cuban Missile Crisis, the Voting Rights Act?”

“It’s not a war.”

“What?”

“We never officially declared war, it’s a conflict.”

“I thought you didn’t pay attention to politics.”

“It’s not fucking politics, it’s common sense,” John says, rolling his eyes and walking away from Alexander.

“Get back here, John! We’re not done,” Alexander shouts.

John turns around, not moving from his spot, “really? Because I’m sure that we’re done.”

“We’re not ending it like this!” His mind flashes back to the promises in Lafayette’s living room and he walks up to John and throws his arms around him.

“Get off of me, Hamilton!” John shouts, struggling to get away from Alex’s grasp.

“No! You promised me that we would be okay and I’m not letting you fucking walk away from this,” Alexander shouts over John’s own shouts, slowly realizing how much he truly needs John near him.

Eventually John gives up and stops struggling, “let go of me, Alex.”

“No.”

John sighs, reluctantly standing on the sidewalk with Alex’s arms wrapped around him. Eventually, he brings his arms up and slowly wraps them around Alex. Alexander breathes a sigh of relief when he feels the pressure and warmth from John’s arms. “I’m sorry,” John mutters.

Alex huffs a laughter, “me too.”

They stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms until Alex’s shivering gets to be too much to ignore and John pulls away, “come on. We need to get you to your apartment before you freeze.”

“Want to share a cab?” Alex asks, giving a cautious but sincere smile.

John snorts and nods, though the smile he gives Alex is small but sincere, “alright. Let’s share a cab.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not many historical things in this chapter but here you go!  
> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> -The Huntley-Brinkley Report was created in 1956 and became the NBC Nightly News in 1970. Was first 15 minutes, then later became 30 minutes long on September 9, 1963.  
> -The "I Want You" poster was designed in 1917 by James Montgomery Flagg. Used to recruit during World War I, World War II, and the Vietnam War. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncle_Sam this page's more specifically about Uncle Sam but there's some information on the poster. 
> 
> Hello! I'm way late on this and I'm very sorry. I started back at school for second semester and things have been pretty chaotic around here (mostly I'm just a mess and spent a week handwriting this while doing school work and college applications) please forgive me. Thank you all so much for the amazing comments! They definitely keep my motivation on this up. Anyway, my twitter as promised: https://twitter.com/Destiny0kay  
> Also, I bought The Hamilton Mixtape (and the In The Heights soundtrack) and oh my god that mixtape.  
> I hope you're all doing well!! I'll see you around :) Let me know what you think!! I hope you have a wonderful day/night!! :D <3  
> -Des


	14. Are You Aware That We're Making History?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a brief mention of sexual assault in this chapter so please be careful.

By the time the taxi arrived outside of The Fairfax, John was dosing off against Alex’s shoulder, almost like the fight didn’t happen. As if he was willing to forget it, like he was asking Alex to forget it. Snow is falling lightly on the window of the cab as he gently shakes John awake.

“John,” he whispers, “we’re at my apartment. You can come up if you want.”

John straightens up and yawns, stretching as he shakes his head at Alex’s statement, “I should head home. Thank you though.”

“Are you sure?” Alexander questions, digging into his coat pocket to find his wallet.

“Yes,” John replies, leaning back against the door as he watches Alexander.

Alex pulls his wallet out of his pocket, quickly estimates the cost of John going to his own apartment, and pays for both. He turns to face the freckled man and offers a smile, ignoring the taxi driver’s sigh of annoyance, he says, “I’ll see you around?”

John sways forward and presses his lips to Alex’s cheek, not noticing Alex’s blush as he pulls away, “I don’t know what everyone else is doing tomorrow, or over the weekend, but I’ll be working on commissions most of the time.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Alexander responds with a laugh.

“I’ll see you around, Alexander,” he states, accompanied by an exasperated yet fond eye roll.

Alex finals pulls open the door, much to the relief of the driver, and climbs out. He spares a glance back at John, who raises a hand in a quick wave, and shuts the door. The moment that he’s safely on the sidewalk, he turns and watches the taxi quickly pull away from the curb. Alex’s cheek still burns from the pressure of John’s lips but he can’t decipher the feeling in his chest or the heaviness in his stomach. He swallows down the guilt that burns his throat like fire and walks inside the building.

The next week passes by quickly, the day of the trial quickly arriving before Alexander can even realize that the days have passed. He pulls the phone cord out of the wall that Sunday, each ring sending his brain into a rapid panic. He ignores each knock at the door that manages to catch him on the rare occasion that he’s home.

Then December 1st comes all too soon and he finds himself sitting in a stuffy courtroom with Angelica on his left and Whitmore on his right. Alex tugs on his shirt collar, each breath tightening the starched fabric around his neck. Each breath tightening the rope that’s taking air from his lungs. There’s flames at his feet, he can feel them burning his legs as they travel higher and higher and there’s John. John’s standing in front of him and Alex’s eyes widen as he watches the figure step closer. No, not John. John wants nothing to do with the government. He blinks rapidly and the figure dissipates like smoke from the circus that Eliza took him to during his first year in America.

America. Smoke. Fire. His ship was on fire when he came. That’s where the burning is from. He has to put out the fire. He can’t. He _can’t breathe_. How is supposed to put out the fire when he can’t _breathe_? There’s a hand on his shoulder and he jumps, twisting away as the rope tightens around his neck. Someone mutters something and he’s moving. There’s nowhere to go. Then it’s blinding light and blissful cold.

“Alex.”

His eyes shoot open as he’s struck with cold powder. “Angelica?” he gasps out.

She’s clapping her hands together to rid herself of the powdery substance, “what the hell happened in there?”

He wipes at his face, “did you throw a snowball at me?”

She nods, “you weren’t answering. It seemed like the best option.”

Alex nods slowly, “right. Well, I’m fine.”

Angelica snorts, “I think you need a new dictionary. The trial doesn’t start for thirty minutes, tell me what’s going on.”

“I just,” he sighs. He knows that he should tell Angelica, she already knows everything else, “I was fine and then it was too hot, my collar was too tight, and my legs were on fire. I was back on the ship, Ange. I couldn’t breathe.”

She walks forward and carefully loosens his tie, “breathe with me.” She takes a deep breath, making sure that Alexander is doing the same, and slowly releases it, feeling her own tension pouring out of her muscles.

Alexander follows her example, breathing deeply and slowly releasing it until he takes a step back and nods, “I think I’m okay.”

She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’m think I’m better. Okay enough to go in there and do my job.”

“I’ll take it. Come on,” she links arms with him and they walk back into the building. They don’t notice the light green Volkswagen that tears into the parking lot, before coming to a stop in the only empty parking spot left in the lot.

Alexander takes his seat next to Whitmore and turns to face him. Sticking his hand out, he says, “hi. I’m Alexander Hamilton. This is Angelica Schuyler,” she waves at him before opening the files on the table, “we’re your lawyers.”

The man shakes his hand with a faint smile, “I’m George Whitmore, your client.”

Alexander smiles at him and pulls back his hand, “we know you’re innocent.” Whitmore relaxes noticeably at that and his smile widens, “we’ll get you off these chargers and Robles convicted. Just stay calm.”

“I can do that.”

The door between the witness stand and the jury box creaks open and the bailiff steps out.

“All rise for the honorable Supreme Court Justice Irwin Davidson,” the Bailiff calls to the full court room. Everybody stands as Davidson walks out and sits at the bench.

“Mr. Hamilton,” Davidson says with a suppressed smile, “I haven’t seen you in months. How is Washington’s firm treating you?”

“Very well, sir, thank you,” Alexander replies with a smile. “How’s your family?”

“Marion’s started writing again. James is still here but Mark moved out to D.C. not too long ago. Joy’s in medical school and William moved out to Connecticut. We’ve very proud,” Davidson says before noticing the still standing people. “At ease,” once everyone sits, he says to Alexander, “we’ll continue this later.”

“How do you know him?” Angelica whispers.

“He tried getting me to work for him while I was in law school. Instead we wrote together, he’s a talented writer and actor,” Alexander replies. “And liberal. We get along well.”

Angelica groans, “you know everyone don’t you?”

Davidson taps the gavel, “let’s proceed. Defendant may go first, call your first witness.”

A man short styled hair and bushy eyebrows stands up, “you’re honor, I’m Cadwallader David Colden and I’ll be representing my client Richard Robles.” He walks forward and says, “Robles, I call you to the stand.”

A thin young man with carefully styled hair stands up and walks towards the witness stand. The clerk stands up, a bible clutched tightly in his hand and approaches, he holds out the bible and instructs Robles to place his hand on the cover, “Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

Robles clears his throat and says, "I, do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence that I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

“I don’t trust that guy,” Alexander whispers to Angelica.

“Shush, we have to pay attention for cross-examination,” she responds.

“Is it true that you confessed to the crimes under heroin withdrawal and without me present?” Colden asks.

Robles scratches his chin and nods, “yes, sir.”

Alexander watches as Colden fumbles through his questions. The jury knows that Robles confessed, knows that Whitmore’s confession was false and he was wrongfully convicted. There’s a wrench thrown into Alexander’s plan when Colden calls upon Brooklyn detectives Joseph DiPrima and Edward Bulger.

“Is it true that you arrested Whitmore?”

“Yes,” DiPrima states.

“Is it true that you interrogated him?”

“Yes.”

“Can you walk the courts through the interrogation process?” Colden asks the man.

DiPrima walks through the interrogation. Illustrating it as peaceful and exactly what they should have done for anybody. “That’s not what happened at all,” Whitmore whispers to Alex.

“I know,” Alexander replies, “I’ve heard the tapes for all interrogations.”

They end their examination by stating that they did not make a mistake in their arrest.

“Prosecution?” Davidson asks.

“Angelica, do you mind?” Alex asks her before standing up.

“Be my guest,” she replies with a wave of her hand, knowing that the case was already won by the time that Alexander stood up.

“I’d like to cross-examine, if you don’t mind,” Alexander says to Davidson before turning to the Jury. “Gentlemen, and women, of the jury, I’m curious, bear with me. Are you aware that we’re making history? Whitmore’s treatment by the police helped to decide Miranda v. Arizona; it will influence all law to come. I intend to prove, beyond of a shadow a doubt, with my co-counsel, that our client, George Whitmore Jr., is innocent and Richard Robles is guilty.” He turns to face the witness stand, “DiPrima, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Might I play you something? It won’t take long.”

He walks back to the table that Angelica and Whitmore are sitting at and picks up the cassette tapes with the player. He inserts the tape labeled with Whitmore’s name, “it’s just the interrogation. Don’t worry.” He presses play and the sounds of the interrogation fill the silent room. The crowd can hear each question, each push, and each denial from Whitmore. They hear the terror in Whitmore’s voice, the shakiness that comes from when you aren’t sure what’s going on. They hear the snide comments about his intelligence and race, the promises of a lesser sentence if he confesses. When the tape finally stops, all that can be heard is the sound of DiPrima’s sharp breaths.

“We did nothing wrong.”

“I’m sure you thought didn’t,” Alexander replies, placing the cassettes on the table.

“There was a ten thousand dollar reward on the line,” DiPrima states.

“What?”

“There was this case, not this one, but another case. A rape of a young woman and we had no suspects except for this kid from a neighborhood no one trusted. He was willing to talk to the cops so we dragged him in. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You wrongfully accused an innocent young man because there was money?” Alex asks incredulously.

“We had no suspects for this case either. He carried a picture in his wallet that looked like Janice Wylie so we interrogated him, he said it wasn’t. It was just to pretend he had a girlfriend but he was lying,” DiPrima continues.

“You didn’t think that he was telling the truth?” Alexander asks. “You accused him of three crimes.”

“He confessed to three crimes,” DiPrima tries defending.

“We heard the tape, DiPrima,” Alex continues, “they were forced confessions. We all heard how confused and scared he was. Get off the stand, DiPrima. I don’t want to hear from you anymore.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Off the stand!”

DiPrima scurries off the stands and Alexander says, “I’d like to call my client George Whitmore Jr. to the stand.”

Whitmore stands and moves over to the witness stand, placing his hand on the bible to recite the oath. He takes his seat at the witness stand and faces Alexander.

“Mr. Whitmore, where were you on August 28th, 1963?” Alexander asks him.

“I don’t remember.”

“Do you remember what you were doing that day?”

“I remember watching King’s speech. The one where says he has a dream. I don’t remember where I was though when I watched it,” Whitmore tells Alex, hands clasped tightly on the wood in front of him.

“What did you do after that?”

“I waited for my brother so we could go to work.”

“Then what happened?”

“Then the police started talking to me. Asking me different questions,” Whitmore replies before rubbing at his eyes and clasping his hands again.

“Did you answer the questions?” Alexander asks.

“Yes but they don’t listen,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

“What do you mean?”

Whitmore sighs and elaborates, “police don’t listen to colored folk, especially out in Brownsville. I answered all their questions truthfully, but they didn’t listen.”

“Well, I’m not the police, Mr. Whitmore. I’m listening,” Alex says with a gentle smile. “Will you tell me what you remember?”

So Whitmore recounts the events, the nearly various interrogations he went through at the police station. When the police had him sign a 61-page confession for a murder he hadn’t heard of and didn’t give him the time to read it. By the end of it, Alex can see half the jury fighting back tears while the other half is nodding along to Whitmore’s testimony.

“Thank you, Whitmore. You may step down now,” Alexander says. Then finally calls Robles to the stand to prove his guilt. He plays the various tapes of Robles’ confessions, watches Robles’ façade start to crumble. He watches the jury’s faces flush with anger. He lays out the crime for Robles and watches as the recognition flashes in his eyes. Holds the bagged murder weapon up in front of him, shows pictures of the crime scene, and watches as Robles finally breaks and confesses to the murders of the two women in front of the full court room.

“I did it! It was me! I broke into their apartment. I didn’t expect anyone to be home and I was just gonna rob ‘em. Then the blonde was there and you know, she was a fox. I couldn’t pass that up. Then this uptight skag shows up and tells me she’s gonna remember my face to tell the police? I offed them both,” Robles says.

Alex shudders at how casual Robles sounds as he explains the crime. “The prosecution rests, your honor,” he says before sitting back down next to Angelica. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he mumbles.

“If you wait ten minutes I’ll join you,” she says, skin looking vaguely green.

“There will be a brief recess while the jury deliberates,” Davidson says before moving away from the bench.

Brief it was. Barely five minutes later the bailiff is calling for order in the court as the jury fills their seats and Davidson returns. The juror closest to the witness stand stands and reads from a paper, “Richard Robles has been charged with attempted robbery, sexual assault, and the murders of Janice Wylie and Emily Hoffert. The jury finds Richard “Ricky” Robles guilty on all counts. The jury finds George Whitmore Junior innocent on all counts.”

There are cheers from the courtroom before Davidson bangs his gavel and says, “Richard “Ricky” Robles, you are hereby sentenced to life in prison by the New York Supreme Court.”

The bailiff approaches Whitmore and unlocks his handcuffs, transferring them Robles’ wrists before directing him through the door and to the police cruiser waiting outside. Whitmore turns to face Alexander and Angelica, “you two got me off. I’m free.”

“Don’t mention it,” Angelica responds. “It’s our job.”

He lets out a laugh and pulls them both into a hug, “I’m a free man!” He pulls back and runs into the crowd to find his family, and Alexander watches as a woman who must be his mom pulls Whitmore close and presses kisses to his cheeks.

“We helped an innocent man,” Angelica says.

“And got a disgusting man behind bars,” Alexander replies. “Want to get a drink?”

“Definitely,” she sighs in relief.

They turn back to the table and quickly start putting away the papers that took over the space. Working in silence until someone clears their throat behind them. Alexander turns around to see John Laurens standing there with two paper flowers and a smile on his face.

“John? What are you doing here?” Alex asks, eyes wide.

“Angelica mentioned that you two had a trial today. We all decided to come and support you both,” John replies, carefully handing over the paper flowers. Alexander wordlessly hands one to Angelica, who just finished putting the papers in their briefcases and snapping them closed, tucking his behind his ear.

“I meant, I thought you hated law and the government? What are you doing here?”

John shrugs, “I do hate the government but I don’t hate you.” Alexander’s heart stutters in his chest and John continues, “I wouldn’t miss the chance to support you. Congratulations by the way.”

Alexander clears his throat and grins, “thank you.” He gives in to the urge to wrap his arms around John and pull him close, John quickly returns the hug before pulling away with a smile.

“So, we’re going to celebrate. Would you two care to join the rest of us at the Pearl Street Diner to celebrate you’re victory?” John asks.

“Well actually,” Alex starts before Angelica interrupts with a quick glare before smiling at John.

“as long as Laf’s buying, I’m in.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” John says with a laugh before gesturing for them to pick up their things. Alexander slips on his coat and picks up his briefcase and follows both Angelica and John to the group waiting outside. Alex jumping at the cheers as they leave the building.

“You did it!” Eliza calls, running over and throwing her arms around Alex and Angelica. “I’m so proud of you two!”

Alex can’t help the slight blush that spreads across his cheeks, “it wasn’t that hard of a case.”

“Is Alexander having a hard time accepting praise?” Angelica asks with a laugh before pressing a kiss to Eliza’s cheek and stepping out of the hug. “I’m going to swing by my apartment then I’ll meet you all at the diner?” Everyone quickly agrees before hugging her, “be careful!”

“You tore that dude apart, Alex!” Hercules shouts with a grin before hugging him after Eliza steps back.

“It was, how you say, cool to see,” Lafayette says with a laugh. “You were like a superhero!”

“Don’t inflate his ego too much, you guys,” Peggy says before throwing an arm around Alex’s waist. “Congrats, my dude.”

Alexander chuckles and wraps his arm around Peggy’s shoulders, “thanks you guys. I really appreciate it.” He looks over at John to find him already watching with a soft smile. When John realizes that he’s been caught, he quickly looks away with his cheeks slowly turning pink. Peggy quickly lets him go when she notices and moves over to Eliza, already whispering something to her.

“Well, come on, mes amis! Angie will already be there by the time we arrive,” Lafayette says, herding the group towards the light green Volkswagen in the corner of the parking lot.

Hercules pulls the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the doors, ushering everyone in. Alex climbs into the very back of the bus and John falls down next to him, “hey Alexander.”

Alex smiles over at him, “hey John.”

Once everyone’s in and the doors are shut, Hercules pulls out of the parking lot. “Get ready,” he shouts over his shoulder before slamming his foot on the gas pedal.

“Herc! Really don’t want to die today!” Peggy shouts over the honks from the other cars.

“We’ll be fine! We have to get there before Angelica!” Hercules shouts over Theo and Maria’s laughter. He makes a sharp right turn, sending John into Alex’s lap, before slowing down.

Alex gasps from the sharp pain but wraps his arms around John’s waists, almost unthinkingly. It’s quick, the change between talking to John and having him in his lap with his lips a few inches from his own. He can feel John’s breath against his face, artificial mint cooling his skin, yet he’s burning from the inside out. If he leaned forward. Just a bit.

He has victory bubbling through his veins, the sun beating down on the car and the snow piled on the sidewalk. The windows are fogging and Peggy’s drawing smiley faces across the glass. And John’s looking at him, arms wrapped around his neck, with pink dusting his cheeks. The sun is in John’s eyes. Warming Alex’s face as he stares at him. Victory. John. No.

No.

_No._

**_John._ **

_Stop!_

**_John._ **

_Don’t risk this!_

**_John!_ **

**_Do it._ **

He throws caution to the wind and leans forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This chapter is extremely late and all about the court case.  
> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> -I couldn't find who Robles' lawyer was so I used Cadwallader David Colden who was the prosecutor of the Levi Weeks murder trial.  
> -All the people mentioned were actual people. Irwin Davidson was the judge during the trial, and Joseph DiPrima and Edward Bulger were the detectives that arrested Whitmore and tested on Robles behalf. If you'd like to read more about the trial, here's some links http://robertktanenbaumbooks.com/rebuttal-to-the-new-york-post/ http://gawker.com/remembering-the-wylie-hoffert-case-a-double-murder-wit-1627613208 (Also here's the judge. He seemed like a super cool guy http://www.nytimes.com/1981/08/02/obituaries/irwin-d-davidson-75-legislator-and-jurist-who-served-40-years.html)  
> -Hercules' car is a 1963 Volkswagen Bus (reasons for this will become clear later, it wasn't to just stereotype) https://classiccars.com/listings/view/935482/1963-volkswagen-bus-for-sale-in-brea-california-92821  
> -Cassette tapes were introduced in the United States in 1964. 
> 
> Okay, I hope you're all doing well. I went to one of the Women's Marches yesterday and I think it was the only time, since the election, that I've felt unified and proud of my country. We chanted "We Will Not Go Back" and, at the end, sang "This Land Was Made For You And Me" together. It was beautiful.  
> I know that a lot of you are going through a tough time, especially after the inauguration. I want you to know something. I was angry after the inauguration. I was angry that the sun had the audacity to shine. The world felt like it was over, everything was crumbling. Then I realized something. I'm thankful that the sun was shining. It showed me that the world hadn't just ended. If the sun can keep shining and the world can keep spinning than we can keep going. Working. Fighting. I believe in you. We will not go back. We will not back down. We will never be defeated.  
> Let me know what you think. I hope you have a wonderful day/night!! <3 :)  
> @Destiny0kay  
> -Des  
> P.s. is the ending what you think it is? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	15. There's Trouble in the Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> Alex struggles with dissociation in this chapter. I've been struggling a lot with it lately and I incorporated it into this chapter. I put some dashes to show where it is. Please read carefully and stay safe :)

Before their lips could meet, Hercules slams on the breaks, causing Alex and John to knock their heads together.

“Fuck!” Alex shouts, reaching up to rub his forehead as groans are heard throughout the vehicle.

John winces and rubs his forehead, “how did you get your license, Hercules?”

“I’m an excellent driver, Laurens. That’s how,” Herc replies, pulling slowly into the diner’s parking lot.

Peggy kicks the back of his seat, “I beg to differ.”

“Maybe you should wear your seatbelt, mes amis,” Lafayette says, before gently patting Hercules’ arm.

“I think the seatbelts would’ve strangled us by now,” Theo groans from her seat as she rubs her temple. “Warn us before you make sharp turns, okay?”

“And slam on the breaks,” Maria says. “This headache is ten times worse.” She reaches over and places her hand on Eliza’s thigh, “you okay?”

Eliza winces but nods with a warm smile, “I’m okay.”

“Y’all are fine,” Hercules says as he parks and John rolls his eyes at Alex.

“He’d say we’re fine as long as we’re not bleeding everywhere,” he whispers to Alex.

“I will make you walk back!” Hercules shouts over his shoulder, though everyone knows he’s not serious the moment that Peggy begins laughing. He pulls the keys out of the ignition and the doors are pulled open. Everyone tumbles out and sighs in relief the moment their feet touch solid unmoving ground.

‘I almost kissed John,’ floats through Alex’s mind as the panic begins to surround him like static electricity. It settles across his skin, sharp and crackling, until Eliza links arms with him and guides him inside.

“We got halfway to the door before realizing that you were still standing by the bus,” she murmurs to him. “Is everything okay?”

He quickly nods, “I’m fine.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, “Alex, we can leave if you’re not up for it.”

He sighs and stops walking just inside the building. He pulls Eliza to the side and whispers, “I almost kissed John.”

Eliza grins, “Congratulations! You definitely deserve that happiness.”

Alex shakes his head, “no no no. Eliza, I almost kissed him but I can’t do that.”

“Why can’t you?”

There’s the question. The question he knew would come. The question everyone asks him. Hell, it’s even the question he asks himself. Yet, this time, he doesn’t have an answer.

“Because it’s-” he stops. He can’t bring himself to say it’s wrong anymore, he’s too tired. So, he sighs and says, “I don’t know.” It’s easier to say that than to say that it’s wrong. He knows it’s not wrong. He’s seen the love in Lafayette’s eyes when he looks at Hercules and he’s seen the same in Herc’s eyes. He’s seen the longing in Eliza’s eyes when she looks at Maria, filled with the knowledge that she can’t have her. But he’s seen the longing and helplessness in Maria’s when she looks at Eliza and thinks no one else can see. Love is supposed to be the most pure force on the planet so how can it be wrong?

Eliza’s smile is sad as she rests her hand on Alex’s arm, “it’s okay.”

Alex didn’t know what she was saying was okay but he did know that the weight on his shoulders was lighter, so he nods and whispers, “I believe you.”

Before Eliza could get another word in, Angelica’s rushing into the building but stops short with a groan when she sees them, “you beat me here?”

Eliza laughs and throws an arm around her shoulders, “sorry, Ange. Maybe next time.”

“What are you two doing over here?” she asks, suspicion filling her voice as she glances between the two of them.

“I was giving Alex advice on his suit. Back me up, Angie. He can definitely spring for a new one,” Eliza says smoothly as she flicks Alex’s sleeve.

Angelica snorts at Alex’s indignant “hey!” and nods, “definitely. I know you put a majority of your pay in savings but you can definitely afford a few new suits.”

Alexander rolls his eyes, “this suit is just fine, thank you.” He states before walking to the table where their friends are.

“Maybe that one but I work with you every day, Alex,” she says. “I’ve seen your other suits and you need new ones.”

Hercules looks up from his menu, “I agree. I may be an excellent tailor but I think even those are outside my abilities.”

Alex groans and takes the empty seat next to Theo, ignoring John’s look of hurt that quickly fades when Peggy slides down to sit next to him, “at least Theo will agree with me.”

“Sorry Alex,” she says with a laugh. “But I’m going to have to side with the Schuylers and Hercules on this one.”

“I haven’t even said anything,” Peggy says.

Everyone looks towards her and she sighs, “but I’m going to have to agree.”

Theo shrugs and looks back at Alex as Eliza pats Peggy’s hand, “my statement stands.”

“Maria?” Alex leans around Theo and looks at her.

“Schuylers,” she laughs.

“I should have known. Laf?”

“Desolé, mon ami, but if ‘ercules cannot mend them then they must be replaced,” he says, putting down his menus with a smile.

Alex sighs and faces John across from him, “John, you’re my last hope. What do you think?”

“I think you’re current suit’s fine-”

“Thank you. See you guys,” Alex interrupts.

“-But you other ones could be replaced,” John finished with a smirk, much to the delight of the rest of the group.

As they laugh, Alex groans “dammit” and rests his head on the table.

Theo pats his back, withdrawing her hand when the waitress approaches to take their order. Each person orders but when it gets to Alex, he simply shakes his head.

“I will pay for everyone, petit lion. Order something,” Lafayette tells him from the other end of the table.

“You really don’t have to do that, Laf,” Alex protests, anxiously tapping his fingertips on the table.

“Je sais but we are celebrating yours and Angelica’s win,” Lafayette tells him and he knows he won because Alexander sighs and stops tapping his fingers before sheepishly ordering a burger and fries.

It’s quiet for a moment, conversations from around the diner filling the air. Yet, the table in the back, practically in their own world, is completely silent. That is until Hercules speaks up and says, “so, Alex, we’ve been trying to call you all week.”

Alex winces and looks up, “you did?”

He nods, “yeah. After the weekend the calls just stopped going through?”

Alex rubs the back of his neck, “oh right. I, uh, pulled the cord out of the wall?”

Laf’s eyes widen and he leans forward so he can see Alex, “why would you do that?”

“I was so focused on my work and I wasn’t sure if I, um,” he clears his throat, “had any friends?”

Hurt fills the eyes of everyone at the table after Alexander utters that statement. “Why would you think that?” Maria whispers.

“I’ve never had a group of friends before,” he says. “Not where I grew up. Not even when I came here, except for the Schuylers.”

John reaches across the table and places his hand on Alex’s arm, he flinches and John quickly withdraws his hand, “Alexander, we’re your friends. We care about you.”

“We do,” Theodosia agrees with a smile on her face, quieting down when the waitress arrives and places the food on the table.

“We’re your friends, Alexander,” Lafayette says, passing the ketchup bottle when Hercules asks for it. “Now that the case is finished, you are going to the museum with us tomorrow. Maria, ‘erc, and me.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I mean, I don’t leave work until seven or eight and I don’t want to give Washington Law a bad reputation, it’s already revolutionary, by leaving early and,” he trails off and looks towards Angelica for help.

She smirks and says, “don’t worry. Washington will let you leave early.”

Alex groans and looks back at Lafayette, who’s watching him with a grin. “Okay,” he sighs, “just pass the ketchup.” When Lafayette passes the bottle down the table, he twists off the cap and tips it on to his plate, tuning out the conversations happening around him. He puts the cap back on and sets the bottle on the table, looking out the window as he dips a fry in the sauce. He knows that the sign hanging from the window reads “Everyone Welcome”, he sees it every time he walks to the diner. He knows that the sign gets torn down at least three times a week, yet the owners continue to put the sign back up. It’s the same sign that hangs on the door of Washington Law, it’s how Washington came to be the owner of the firm. Because everyone was welcome. Washington was given the chance to succeed because everyone was welcome.

“Alexander,” someone whispers as they tap his arm.

He startles and looks down at his arm, following the finger that’s resting on his olive toned skin up until he spots John Laurens staring at him with concern.

“Are you okay?”

___________

Alex nods and rubs his face, “yeah. Just thinking.” It’s easier to focus on the world around him when there’s a warm hand pressed against his arm, grounding him to real life. Except, the moment that John pulls his hand away, he can feel himself floating again.

The rest of the diner trip passes in the same fashion. He struggles to focus on the feeling of his own hands as he mindlessly eats, yet he can’t taste a thing. He feels himself floating, watching the world through a body that’s not his own and he can’t clear the fog. A moment later, there’s something warm on his forearm and he looks down to see a freckled hand pressed against his skin.

“John,” he mutters, surprised the mouth that must be his is moving. It’s like he’s been disconnected from the rest of his body. But the longer that John rests his hand on Alex’s arm, the more that Alex feels himself reconnecting. He can slowly pick apart the words floating around him as the fog lifts and he slowly looks up at the group with him. He can feel like cool tabletop against his forearm, the wooden chair against his body as he leans back. Except, John pulls his hand away and Alex _can’t let the fog back_. So, he grabs John’s hand tightly, clasping them together and resting them against the tabletop.

John’s staring wide eyed at their clasped hands then looks back at him, “Alexander.”

“I can’t” he clears his throat. “I can’t let the fog back.  Please _don’t let go_.”

John immediately nods and tightens his grip, “I won’t. I promise.”

He doesn’t let go. Not when Alex finished his food or when Laf orders dessert for everyone. He doesn’t let go even when the other patrons pass by them with disgust plain on their features. Not when they finally leave the diner and make their way back to Hercules’s Volkswagen. They sit next to teach other in the back, hands clasped between them as Hercules drops people off. First it’s Maria, nerves evident as she stumbles out of the vehicle.

“Be safe,” Hercules says to her. Though she only nods and closes the door.

Then they drop off John.

“Will you be okay if I let go?” John asks Alex, worry and fear clouding his gaze.

Alex hesitantly nods, “I think so.”

John presses a light kiss to the back of Alex’s hand, “you know where to find me if you need me.” He lets go and climbs out.

Alexander nods as he struggles to find his bearing after having no one to ground him. He watches John through the window before they pull away then turns to face forward, panic settling into his bones. He can’t let the fog rush back in. He wants to be able to witness this all and _remember it._ Before he can focus on the feeling of losing himself, another hand slips into his. He looks over to see Peggy, with her hand is, looking out the window. As if she hadn’t even noticed the motion. So he doesn’t bring any attention to it, just squeezes her hand in thanks. He breathes an inaudible sigh of relief when she squeezes back.

_________________

Alex is the second to last person they drop off before going home, the last being the Schuyler sisters. Before he can go inside the building, Lafayette rolls down the window and says, “don’t forget the museum tomorrow, petit lion!”

“Angelica wouldn’t let me,” he responds before going inside and to his apartment.

The moment he gets inside, he shuts the door and immediately reattaches the phone cord. Deciding that, if he truly has friends, he’s going to want to talk to them.

* * *

When Alex wakes up the following morning, not remembering when he fell asleep, he knows it’s going to be a weird day. There’s pounding on the front door and the sound of water rushing. He rolls out of bed and stumbles to the front door, slipping and falling on a puddle of water just outside of the hallway. The knocking stops for a moment at the thump then begins again with a more frantic edge. He grabs the edge of the television and pulls himself up before carefully making his way to the door.

He pulls the front door open and comes face-to-face with a soaked man. Before Alex can get a word in, the man speaks quickly, “the water pipes in my apartment burst and I wanted to make sure the apartment below me knew and was okay. So,” he takes a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

Alex blinks owlishly at him before nodding slowly, “I slipped on a puddle on my way over but I think I’m okay.” He’s dazed as he asks, “what time is it?”

The man in front of him looks down at his watch, “seven thirty.”

Alex slams the door shut and runs to his room before stopping his tracks and running back. He pulls open the door and says to the shocked man, “late for work, sorry about your apartment!” He shuts the door and rushes back to his room, throwing an old towel over the puddle as he goes.

The mornig is hectic as he rushes around the apartment, trying to get ready before anyone notices that he’s not there. He runs out of the apartment, tying his hair back, and down the staircase, not waiting for the elevator. He’s out of the building by the time his watch ticks over to seven forty-five and rushing down the sidewalk, long coat billowing behind him.

He’s out of breath when he stops on the sidewalk. Nearly collapsing as he leans forward, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. When he stands back up, he notices that he’s two blocks away from Washing Law so he runs the rest of the way. Breath coming quick as he struggles to make it in time. When he arrives inside the building, he leans against the wall, breathing heavily.

“Alexander? What are you doing?”

Alex opens his eyes to see Burr looking at him with concern, “breathing exercises.” He takes stock of Burr’s appearance, notcing the exhaustion creasing his eyes and the coffee stains on his white buttoned shirt, “are you okay?”

Burr nods, stifling a yawn, “it’s been a long week.”

“Is it,” he lowers his voice, “legal trouble?”

Burr rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “no, I’m not having any legal trouble, Alexander,” Burr glances towards the staircase and gestures for Alex to follow him. “Anyway, I’m a lawyer so I’m sure that I could get out of it if something happens.” He presses the button once they’re inside.

“I’m sure you could, Burr, but I could help with whatever’s going on if you’d let me,” Alexander says, crossing his arms over his chest, fighting back back a yawn of his own.

Burr glances over at him, a silent question behind his eyes, before saying, “there’s nothing going on.”

Alex shrugs before nodding, “if you say so.”

Burr sighs, “let it go, Alexander. It’s way over your head.”

He raises an eyebrow and steps out of the elevator when the doors creak open, “excuse me?”

Before Alex can say another word to instigate the one-sided argument, Burr mutters, “it’s way over my head,” and pushes passed him to the break room.

Alex’s eyes follow Aaron Burr’s retreating figure in silence until he disappears into the dark breakroom, “what the hell?” He quickly follows and pushes open the door, he flicks the light switch as he says “Burr, what the hell do-”

:SURPRISE!”

_He’ll vehemently deny ever screaming when anyone brings it up after today but, let it be known, that Alexander Hamilton released a screech to rival that of a banshee when his coworkers surprised him that day._

Amidst the laughter, George Washington walks forward and places his hand on Alex’s shoulder, “Congratulations on the case, son.”

Alex is too dazed to fight back on the name. Instead, he says, “Angelica won the case too.”

Angelica comes up next to him and hands him a cup, “I know. They all do too. I planned this mostly for you, though they did put my name on the cake and banner as well.”

He holds the cup tightly in his hand, “but… why?”

She throws an arm around his shoudlers, “because you deserve it. A moment to relax before throwing yourself headfirst into whatever case catches your attention next.”

“I can celebrate when my work’s done,” Alexander protests.

Angelica guides him to the table with the cake and snacks while he rambles about the work he has left to do. She cuts a piece of the cake and places it in his other hand before picking up the fork, putting a small portion on it, and shoves it into his mouth, “now chew and swallow.”

He glares at her while he chews and swallows the bite before saying, “what the fuck, Angelica?”

She shrugs, “you wouldn’t shut up and Carla spent all night on the cake. It would have been rude to let it go to waste, so just enjoy the party, okay?”

Alex sighs and puts down his cup and plate, “I don’t know, Angelica.” He rubs the back of his neck, “I have so much work to do.”

Angelica nods and places a hand on his arm, “I know that but it won’t kill you, or anyone else, to just take ten minutes to enjoy yourself. Relax. Celebrate a victory for once, a victory that could get your name on the map!”

Alex rolls his eyes, “the Robles’ case isn’t going to get  my name on the map.”

“It might.”

He sighs and looks up from staring down at the floor, “ten minutes?”

Angelica fights back a smile as she nods, “ten minutes.”

“Alright, fine. But no more than ten minutes!” he states, picking his plate back up and moving to talk to Kitty from the second floor.

It’s not until Martha Washington peaks her head into the breakroom to tell George that the hospital let her out a few minutes early for their daily lunch together that he realizes he’s been in there for three hours.

 

Four o’clock comes around in a flurry of loud voices and bright clothing that drags him out of the building with Washington’s blessing. They shove him in the back of a gray car and he can hear it rumble to life beneath him.

“Buckle your seatbelt, petit lion,” Lafayette says from the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel while the other holds Hercules’s in between them. “I value everyone’s lives and follow strict safety guidelines.”

Alex buckles his seatbelt before saying, “I didn’t know that you know Washington!”

“Old family friend,” he replies before driving down the road.

“Washington isn’t that old,” Maria speaks up from her spot beside Alexander, looking more pale and worn down than when Alex saw her just yesterday. She sends him a smile when he catches her eye.

“Are you okay?” he whispers to her.

She nods rapidly with a wince, “I’m alright. Just a headache.”

He presses his hand against her forehead but she flinches away from the gentle touch, “I’m sorry!”

She shakes her head, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I just… wasn’t expecting it. What were you going to do?”

“I was just trying to see if you were running a fever,” Alexander explains.

Maria takes a deep breath and nods, “okay, that’s fine, just move slowly. Please.”

Alex slowly presses his hand against Maria’s forehead and she leans into the gentle touch, “you don’t seem to be running a fever.” He lets his hand rest against her forehead, “are you sure you’re okay?”

She nods before pulling away and curly into his side, “I’ll be okay.”

Alex wraps an arm around her shoulders and looks up, desperately trying to think of a subject change, “so, Laf, this is a nice car.”

“Thank you, petit lion,” Lafayette replies with a smile, mostly focused on the road in front of him. “I’m not exactly sure what kind it is but it, how you say, runs smoothly.”

Alex laughs, “that’s always important.”

Although Hercules occasionally speaks up about a building they pass, the rest of the ride is silent. Maria dozes off against Alex’s side and he gently nudges her awake when they park a block away from the museum. They walk the rest of the way and Alex stops walking when he sees the words printed on the front of the building, “Museum of Modern Art?”

Hercules nods, “have you been here before?”

Alex shakes his head, “no. Eliza loves the arts and she tried taking me when we were dating but something always came up.”

“Well, let us go in!” Lafayette calls and ushers everyone inside, “I will pay the admission charge, no fear mes amis.”

“Laf, I can pay for us,” Alexander protests, already reaching for his wallet.

“You can but you won’t,” Lafayette refuses, quickly paying the fee once they make it in. He claps his hands with a grin, “so where shall we go first?”

Maria pulls Alex to the map hanging on the wall that details each art exhibit, “hmm, we can look at the forties art.”

Lafayette and Hercules follow closely behind them as they make their way to the forties art. Lafayette quickly falls into the role of explaining each piece. Alexander listens closely to each explanation, smiling at the light behind his eyes as he speaks, yet he glances over at Maria and stops. She had rubbed at her cheek and rubbed away faint coloring to reveal fading bruises covering her skin.

Alex gasps, attracting the attention of Lafayette and Hercules, “Maria, what happened to you?”

Maria jumps and looks over at him, “what are you talking about?”

“The bruises,” he elaborates. He reaches out for her but stops when he remembers how she flinched in the car. “What’s going on?”

Maria sighs, “Alex, I can’t… I can’t explain this right now. Can’t we just enjoy the day out?”

Alexander notices the pleading in her eyes, the silent pleading to please let it go. He’s helpless. He nods but whispers, “later, Maria. You’re telling me later.”

She nods and focuses back on Lafayette’s shaky explanation of the painting in front of them.

The rest of the trip passes by in much the same way. Alexander keeping a close eye on Maria as they pass through each room and floor, pass by each painting and sculpture, spending those fears together slowly bringing those four closer together. Then there’s the call for closing and Hercules guides them outside where Maria leads them to a snow covered bench. She brushes it off with her scarf before shaking it off and rewrapping it around her neck. She sits down and pats the spot next to her.

“We’ll bring the car up here,” Lafayette says, gesturing for Hercules to follow.

“Don’t you want to hear what she’s going to say?” Alex asks their retreating figures.

Hercules turns around quickly to say, “we already know.” Before turning back around.

Alex faces Maria. “Okay, Maria. What’s going on? Whatever it is… have Laf and Herc tried helping? They said that they know?”

She sighs and pulls a handkerchief from her pocket, “they know… I won’t let them do anything.” She says before slowly wiping away the makeup on her face, revealing more bruises in various degrees of healing.

Alex gasps in fear and anger, “Maria… what… who did this to you?”

“It wouldn’t help to tell you that I fell, would it?” Maria asks, looking down at the foundation covered handkerchief.

Alex shakes his head and gently covers her hand with his , “Maria, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

She looks up at him with tears filling her eyes, “it’s James.” She sighs, “he… I swear that he’s a good man. He just gets drunk sometimes. It’s not his fault, I just… I’m not trying hard enough, I should be more careful.”

“Maria,” Alex protests. “It’s not your fault. You need to tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, isn’t your fault.”

“You don’t understand, Alex,” Maria says, letting the tears slip down her cheeks. “He wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t my fault.”

“Maria-”

“I shouldn’t anger him. I should be more careful,” Maria’s shaking as she speaks.

“Maria, please,” Alex says, gently taking her other hand in his. “Is James,” he takes a deep breath, “is James… hitting you?”

Maria chokes on a sob and looks up at him, shaking as she nods and whispers, “yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for the beginning of this chapter! I already wrote when they finally kiss before I started writing this story and, trust me, it will be on camera. You'll love it, I promise.  
> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> Not much really needs to be noted in this chapter.  
> -Lafayette's car is https://classiccars.com/listings/view/943569/1964-pontiac-gto-for-sale-in-fredericksburg-virginia-22408 (I really like classic cars)  
> -Museum of Modern Art opened in 1929. I couldn't find much information on what MOMA was like during the 1960s so I kept everything as vague as I could without making it weird.  
> -I don't remember if I mentioned this in the last chapter but Whitmore didn't get off the charges (even though he was proven innocent) for ten years. I decided to get him off the charges immediately because I wanted to treat him as fairly as I could and I think he deserved getting off them asap. 
> 
> OKAY SO I meant to update yesterday but I wanted to make the chapter longer so I wrote the rest of it today. So sorry about the late update. I have a few questions for you actually. Racism was a major point of the 1960s (as was sexism and homophobia), do you want me to incorporate more of that into this story? Do you want smut incorporated into this story in later chapters?  
> Okay so my ears have been blessed by this video and I need you all to witness this magic https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVXeil3mQ_Q  
> Let me know what you think!  
> I hope you all have a wonderful day/night!! :D <3  
> -Des


	16. Diamond in the Rough

All the color drained from Alexander's face. He suspected that that was the case but it's different knowing that it's the truth. Knowing that someone who's supposed to protect and care for Maria is someone she needs protected from, it's.... infuriating.

She's still watching him as his mind shoots through doses of feelings, from anger to sadness and everything in between. He lets go of her hands and hold his head in his hands, "I'm so sorry, Maria. I should have done something. I should have payed closer attention."

Maria touches her fingers to the side of his face gently and turns his head to face her, "you didn't know, Alex, and I don't blame you. There's nothing you can do."

He gives her a sad smile and places a hand over here still resting on his face, "there's so much that I could do for you." His eyes are burning from unshed tears slowly pooling in his eyes, "leave him, Maria. You can stay with me."

She gasps, "I can't do that! Alex, it would ruin everything I've built in this city." She pulls her hand away and sighs, twisting the gold band on her finger, "I've told Lafayette and Hercules this but, "she take a deep breath, fingers tightening on the wedding band, "I'm scared. Nothing good comes from a divorce."

"You'd get out of a terrible relationship," Alex responds. "I think that's a positive."

"At what cost?" She whispers, standing up when Lafayette pulls to the curb.

Alexander quickly jumps up and catches her hand before she can open the door, "if you ever need anything." He pauses for a moment before continuing, "I think my apartment is closer than Laf's and Herc's," he finishes with a soft smile.

Maria wraps her arms around Alex, "thank you."

He returns the hug and murmurs into her hair, "anytime, Maria."

Lafayette rolls down his window and calls, "mes amis, it is cold, do come into the car."

Maria laughs and pulls away before opening the door and sliding in. Alexander follows closely behind, buckling his seatbelt when he falls on to the seat.

"Did you have a good talk?" Hercules asks, turning in his seat to look at the pair in the backseat.

"It was," Alexander pauses, searching for the right word, "enlightening."

Hercules nods and looks over at Maria, "how are you feeling?"

"Lighter," she says as she takes Alex's hand in hers, "it's comforting that someone else knows."

"I wish you would have told me sooner," Alexander responds, tightening his hold on Maria's hand.

"But I still told you," she offers with a smile. "That has to count for something."

"It does," Alexander assures her before looking back towards Hercules. "How long have you two known?"

"Since late May," Hercules responds, glancing towards Lafayette for confirmation.

"And you never bothered to do anything?" Alex asks incredulously.

"Do not assume, petit lion," Lafayette responds, eyes narrowed as he glares at the street. "Maria-"

"I asked them not too," Maria interrupts. "Just as I did for you."

"I don't... I can't understand why, Maria," Alexander replies, eyes wide in disbelief.

She sighs and nods slowly before saying, "Alex... the police aren't always the best. I know that you've dealt with them automatically not trusting you just because of the color-"

"Of my skin," Alex says at the same time as Maria. "But you have evidence! They'd have to believe you!"

"I've tried," she replies despondently. "They believed James over me and I was back home within the hour."

"I'm going to change that, Maria. I promise you," Alex says, gripping Maria's hand tightly.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Alex. You can't always change the world," she responds, blinking back tears.

"I'm going to keep this promise, I," he pauses for a moment. "promise."

Maria snorts and pulls her hand out of his grip to lightly smack his arm, "alright. I guess I have to believe you. You can't break double promises."

"We helped in the only way we could," Hercules says from the passenger seat. "We offered to be a safe space for Maria whenever she wanted it."

"Sometimes," Lafayette says, clearing his throat. "Safety is the only thing you can offer someone."

With that sentence echoing through Alex's mind, he's silent until they pull up outside his apartment building. He opens the door but stops halfway through getting out and says, "I'm sorry for accusing you of not doing anything."

"Do not worry, mon ami," Lafayette replies, waving away Alexander's concerns. "I would have reacted the same way."

"Yeah man," Hercules continues with a grin. "No worries."

"I'll see you later?" Alexander asks with a hopeful grin.

"You couldn't get rid of us if you tried," Maria tells him before pushing him out the door with a laugh.

The last thing he sees before heading inside is Hercules holding up a peace sign with his hand out the window, the laughter following him to his apartment. Yet, the moment he gets to his door, the carpet outside squelches beneath his feet. "What the hell?" He mutters to himself as he unlocks the door to his apartment and pushes it open.

Water leaks form the center of the ceiling and spreads out, sliding down the walls. He groans and slams the door shut, the sound reverberating through the otherwise silent apartment. Water penetrates the worn leather of his shoes, submerging his feet in an inch of water as he moves further into the apartment. He runs to his desk that's pressed up against the wall and runs his finger over every paper and book resting on the solid wood, testing for any dampness and sighing in relief when none is found.

Alexander walks over to the bookshelf in the corner, wincing at the soaked socks pressing against his feet, and runs his hands over the books. He rests his head against the shelf and sighs, "what the fuck?" He knocks his head lightly against the wood, "what the FUCK?!"

He pushes away from the bookshelf and stomps to the telephone. He puts in the number, silently relieved when the call connects, and presses the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?" asks a crackling voice from the other end.

"I need help," Alex says. He's not sure who he called but he knows very few numbers.

There's silence for a moment before the voice speaks up hesitantly "Alexander?"

"John?" He asks, shocked.

He clears his throat before speaking again, panic spilling into his voice, "is everything okay?"

Alex looks around his apartment, "no?"

"What's going on?" There's rustling in the background and nearly inaudible clicks, almost as if he's putting something away.

"Did I interrupt something?" Alexander questions, guilt flooding his veins.

"You didn't! Don't worry, just practicing sketching. Nothing that I can't do later," John assures him. "Now, tell me what's going on."

Alexander, though hesitant, spills the story to John, "this morning there was pounding on my door and a guy," he pauses for a second at the choked sound that John makes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," John replies through his coughs, "just, uh, choked on water."

"Okay... do you want me to continue?"

"Absolutely!"

"A guy was at my door and it turns out the pipes in his apartment had burst that morning," Alexander sighs, "I went to work, went to the museum, and when I got home I found the floor in my apartment soaked."

"Oh shit," John swears, much to Alex's delight. "Is anything in your apartment destroyed?"

Alexander shrugs before remembering that John can't see him, "I think it's just the floor." He clears his throat awkwardly before continuing, "I don't exactly know what to do? The last time anything flooded, I was 17 and," he trails off.

"Say no more," John says and Alexander can practically hear the smile in his voice. "Pack a suitcase and I'll be there in 30 minutes."

Before Alexander can protest there's a click and he pulls the phone away from his ear. He slowly puts the phone back on the hook and walks to his bedroom. Each step sending more water through his shoes.

* * *

 

There's a knocking at his door as Alex clicks his suitcase closed. He carries it out to the living room and tosses it on the worn sofa before pulling the front door open. "John, hey-" before he can finish his sentence, John pulls him into a tight hug.

"Are you okay, Alexander?" John asks him, voice muffled by his shoulder.

Alex nods, wrapping his arms around John, "I'm okay. Just... frustrated?"

John pulls away from the hug and steps inside with Alex, wincing when he steps on the carpet, "did you call your landlord so they know and can take care of this?"

"No," Alexander replies, shaking his head. "You were the first one I called."

"Why did you call me?" John asks before glancing up at him with wide eyes, "I mean, I'm honored to be the first person but don't the Schuyler's live closer?"

He rubs the back of his neck and stares down at the carpet, "yes? Uh, I kind of dialed a number. I wasn't thinking about it, I just... dialed."

John places his hand on Alex's arm and offers a gentle smile, "it's completely fine, Alexander. Let's call your landlord, huh?"

Alex nods and moves towards the phone, "I can definitely do that. Make yourself at home." He makes the quick phone call, biting his tongue, after sharing a quick glance with John, when the landlord begins yelling about security deposits and untrustworthy renters. Though he refuses to apologize for something he did not do, the landlord agrees to fix the water damage but will tack on the price to his December rent. "Where am I supposed to stay while this is getting fixed?"

"That's on you to figure out, Mr. Hamilton. Have a wonderful day," his landlord spits out before hanging up the phone.

Alex rolls his eyes and hangs up the floor before turning around to face his freckled friend, "he'll take care of it but it's being tacked onto my December rent."

"Is there anything in here that you want to take with you?" John asks before standing back up from the sofa.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I told you to back a suitcase. I thought I made it clear that you're staying with me," John says, picking up Alex's suitcase.

"You don't need to do that," Alexander protests, reaching out for his suitcase from John.

John holds it behind him with a smile, "I'm well aware that I don't need to." He steps closer to Alex, "but I'd like to."

Alexander swallows audibly before nodding and whispering, "okay."

"Well, Alexander, are you ready to go?"

"Give me one second," Alex responds before walking over to the bookshelf. He looks at John from the corner of his eye and waits until he's looking away before grabbing The Bisexual Option off the shelf and shoving it under his shirt. "I'll be right back."

"Take your time," John replies with a wave.

He rushes into his bedroom and frantically looks for a place to hide the book. Alex throws open the closet door and stands on his toes, tossing the book on the shelf. The guilt crashes over him like a wave as he closes the closet door and leans against it. "I can't... think about that right now," he sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. "I'm just... I'm just Alexander Hamilton."

He pushes away from the closet door and leaves the bedroom, each step growing beaver as he walks farther away from the book.

"Ready to go?" John asks, looking up from his scrutinization of the bookshelf.

Alex nods and takes his suitcase from John, fingers brushing lightly. "Are you sure about me staying with you? I can call Eliza or Angelica. I just, I stay up all night and when I do sleep, I have to wake up early for work. I-"

"Alexander," John interrupts with a laugh. "I have never been more sure about anything." He places a hand on Alex's arm, "I want you to stay with me."

Tension drains out of Alex's body at the contact and he sighs before nodding slowly, "yeah... yeah, okay. I'd love to stay with you." He barely noticed the blush that rises on John's cheeks as he links arms with him.

"Then let's go change the world," John says with a grin before guiding Alexander out of the apartment.

Alex can't help the laugh that escapes his lips as he's pulled through. He locks the door behind him before John pulls him, stumbling, down the hallway.

* * *

  
John pushes the door open with a grin, "this is my humble abode."

Alex follows closely behind, shutting the door and slowly taking off his shoes and coat as he observes the apartment. 'Question Authority' is painted in bold yellow letters across the only brick wall not crowded with canvases.

"Can you do that?" Alex asks, gesturing to the paint job.

"Hey, man, you're getting it!" John cheers before kneeling and picking up paintbrushes from the sofa.

Blank canvases are stacked haphazardly against the wall. Each one a snowy white, almost longing to be covered in paint. Canvas in various stages of drying lean against rough bricks, each telling their own story in a language that Alexander can never hope to understand. Red soars across the rough surface of the one directly in front of Alex. Small but passionate with flames of yellow and black twisted into the flames. If he steps any closer he'll burn, the best already grasping his legs.

"Alexander," John whispers, reaching out to grasp his arm and he jumps. "Are you okay?"

He nods quickly and clears his throat, "I'm okay." He gives John a small smile, "thank you." Alex looks back towards the paintings and says, "your art's beautiful. They're masterpieces."

John shrugs and rubs the back of his neck, "I wouldn't call them masterpieces."

"Well, what would be masterpieces then?" Alex questions, turning to face John.

John looks at him, a smile tugging at his lips as he says, "you."

Alexander's cheeks burn and he quickly looks away, thoughts racing. He struggles to form a coherent response when John speaks up again.

"I can stop if you want."

"What do you mean?"

"I know that I can be pushy-"

"You're really not," Alex interrupts.

"Thanks," John chuckles before growing serious again. "If me flirting with you makes you uncomfortable I can stop."

"No!" Alex practically shouts. "I mean, I'm not uncomfortable- I'm fine. You can keep, uh," he clears his throat awkwardly, "flirting. With me. If you'd like."

John's laugh rings out like bells in the room, "your wish is my command." He takes Alex's hand gently and guides him to the bedroom, Alex drags his suitcase behind him, "you can sleep in here until your apartment is fixed."

"John! I can't do that, this is your room!" Alexander protests.

John shrugs, "I like the couch."

"I don't even sleep that much! It'd be pointless for me to take over your room when you sleep more that I do," he explains frantically, guilt filling his body.

"Alexander," John says softly. "Really, I'm completely fine with the couch. I fall asleep on it most of the time anyway because I paint until I'm falling asleep on my feet."

He takes a deep breath, "are you sure?"

John nods, "positive." He offers a smile, "you're probably exhausted after the day you've had so... I'll leave you to get some sleep?"

Alexander realizes that John's still holding his hand with a blush. He quickly pulls his hand away and nods, "yeah." His voice cracks and he clears his throat, cheeks burning hotter as he looks away.

John sways forward and presses a kiss to Alex's cheek, "goodnight Alexander." His breath ghosts across Alex's skin, warmth meeting warmth. His smile leaves a warm glow in Alexander's chest when he leaves the room, footsteps creaking. Alex can see him picking up a paintbrush through the crack in the door.

Alexander places his hand on his cheek, almost as if to keep John's kiss in place. He falls back on to the bed, the smell of paint and something heavier, something distinctly _John_ , rises from the sheets. Enveloping Alex in a hug reminiscent of the ones that John gives. When he tugs the blanket up, warmth quickly replaces the faint chill in the air and he falls asleep to the smell of John and his heart calling for the man painting in the other room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The diamond in the rough is John. I know in My Shot it's Alex but right now it's John.   
> OKAY SO I OWE YOU ALL AN APOLOGY!!! I meant to update over the weekend but the computer is broken and the printer's out of ink so I can't even do my English assignments at home. The printer has nothing to do with this but basically I have to hand write every chapter and type them on my iPod until the computer gets fixed. I have no idea when that will be. I'm a mess. My life is a mess. So yeah, sorry for the late and low quality chapter. 
> 
> Anyway! Things are going to happen and I'm so pumped for this to pick up.   
> Let me know if you have any questions or concerns!   
> Let me know what you think!!   
> Have a wonderful day/night!!!  
> Stay strong, darling. Things will be okay. :D <3  
> @Destiny0kay   
> -Des


	17. He Struggled and Kept His Guard Up

The weekend passes by quickly. A flash of startlingly bright paint against an otherwise dull overcast sky. Each second clear in Alex’s mind, every moment that he recalls them. They don’t go out the first weekend they share an apartment. Well, they leave once to get groceries from the nearby bodega, though that almost didn’t happen until John realized that he had no food in the apartment. Through John’s frantic apologies, Alex explains that he didn’t even notice because he doesn’t eat much anyway. That’s when John’s eyes widen and he pulls on his coat and shoes before pulling Alex out the door, after he puts on his own shoes and coat of course.

It’s late Sunday night and John’s just finishing a commission for an older woman in Washington Heights when Alex stumbles out of the bathroom, steam billowing out from the shower.

“Hey,” Alex says, rubbing his hair with a towel and walking over to John.

John looks over at him and quickly looks back towards the canvas, cheeks burning as Alex stands shirtless next to him. “Hey-” his voice cracks and he clears his throat, “hey, Alexander.”

“I know that I’ve already thanked you but,” he rubs the back of his neck, “thank you.”

“You would do the same for me,” John replies, flashing Alex a warm smile.

Alexander is once again struck by how much trust John places in him, heart thudding in his chest. “Of course I would,” he replies, voice soft as he stares at the man in front of him. He watches John rubs his face in through, smearing paint across his cheek as he stares at the painting. ‘ _He’s beautiful_ ,’ floats through his mind when he sees the lightbulb light up with an idea in John’s eyes.

“Hey, what do you think of the yellow here?” John asks, breaking Alex’s train of thought.

“I’m not an artists,” he replies immediately, before even looking at the painting.

“I beg to differ,” John replies with a s mile. “You’re an artist with words. Why not paint as well?”

Alex gives a long suffering sigh, making John roll his eyes with a laugh, before looking at the painting. His eyes widen in awe as he takes in the image before him. It’s so obviously New York Harbor that it brings tears to his eyes. The clouds mixed with the light blue sky are white and dark gray, a stark contrast to the green water below. The ships are small in comparison to the large figure drawing his attention, her flame calming his nerves. New York City sits in the distance, calling out Alexander's name as the flames burn brightly behind him, heat licking up his legs as he stares out at the island approaching from a slowly sinking ship. The Statue of Liberty stands tall and proud, her torch lighting a flame in his chest the more he watches her as he leaves his old life behind.

“-ander,” says a voice from the waves breaking against the hull of the ship.

He can’t look away from the figure that beckons him closer. If he could just reach out, he knows the land is waiting for him. Calling his name.

“Alexander,” America’s calling for him. Reaching back to grasp his hand. Just a bit further.

“Alexander!”

He jumps and the harbor washes away, revealing bricks and canvases and a man staring at him with tears in his eyes and a worried frown on his face, hands gripping Alex’s arms tightly.

“Are you back?”

He blinks, dazed, “what?”

The man sighs in relief and pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around Alex, “okay. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Alexander is frozen for a moment before whispering, “John,” brokenly and sagging against him, arms tight around his torso.

It’s quiet in the apartment, Alex catching his breath and grounding himself in reality, and John blinking back tears an reassuring himself that Alex is here.

“I’m okay, John,” Alex says, taking a deep breath and slowly pulling away. “I’m okay.”

John nods quickly, “of course.” He sighs and rubs his face, “I just,” he trails off, seemingly trying to find the words. Alexander waits.

“I was scared,” he finishes.

Alex winces and nods, “I’m sorry.” He glances back at the painting, “it brought back some memories,” he pauses for a second, “it’s beautiful. You’re incredibly talented.”

John clears his throat and steps awake from Alex, who tries to ignore the hurt that burns his veins, and runs the final tears from his eyes, “thank you. Do you want me to put it away?”

Alex raises an eyebrow, “why would I want that?”

He crosses his arms, anxiety clear in the stiffness of his body, “because it causes,” he waves his hand in Alex’s direction, “that.” John runs that hand through his hair, “you were muttering about fire and the Statue of Liberty? And if it’s going to cause that, I should… I should put it away.” He tugs his hair into a ponytail before letting it fall around his shoulders again, “so you don’t disappear again.” He rubs his face roughly, “don’t disappear again.” He looks at Alex, “please.”

Alex is shocked into silence, heart thumping wildly in his chest. He takes a deep breath and takes one of John’s hands gently in one of his own, causing the man to jump, “I’ll be okay, John. I don’t think you should put it away, you should be proud of it.”

John stares at him evenly before letting out a sigh, “are you sure?”

He nods quickly; unaware he’s still holding John’s hand, “trust me.”

“You know that I do,” he replies with a small smile tugging at his lips.

Alex smiles softly, surprised at the words that come tumbling out of his mouth next, “I trust you too, you’re one of my best friends.”

The grin that lights up John’s face the next moment is bright enough to illuminate all of Manhattan. It knocks the breath out of Alex’s lungs and he struggles to keep his own smile in place.

“Well, dear Alexander, if you’re so determined for me to keep it out until tomorrow afternoon, then I just might,” John says with a laugh before letting go of Alex’s hand.

“Why until tomorrow afternoon?” Alex asks, crossing his arms over his bare chest to fight back the chill.

“That’s when I’m giving it to the woman who commissioned it,” John replies, cleaning his brushes. His tongue pokes out of his teeth slightly in concentration.

“Where are you going to give it to her?” He questions, handing over the cloth that’s just out of John’s reach when he tries getting it.

John pauses for a moment then says, “Washington Heights, West 187 Street, I believe.”

“You believe? You’re not sure?” Alex asks, eyes wide.

He shrugs, “it’s written on the back of the canvas.” He puts the brushes back in the jar, “I’m not worried.”

“I am,” Alex replies with a frown. “Can you wait until I get ho- back from work before going?”

John shakes his head, “I said I’d have it by the afternoon.” He looks at him Alex with a smile, “don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not safe,” he protests.

“This is Manhattan, Alexander,” he laughs. “No place is safe.”

“I know that,” he rubs his face, “but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

John’s face softens and he places a hand on Alex’s arm, “I won’t get hurt, I promise. I’ll bring Hercules or Lafayette if that will make you feel better?”

Alex nods, “please.” He sways forward and rests his forehead against John’s shoulder, “come back in one piece.”

He runs a hand through Alex’s hair, “I will.” He pauses when he feels Alex shiver , “go put a shirt on, you must be freezing.”

He shakes his head, “I’m fine, really.”

“Alexander,” John replies with a raised eyebrow.

He groans and pulls away, “okay, I’ll go put on a shirt. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” John laughs, nudging him towards the bedroom.

Alex laughs as he walks to the bedroom, tripping over the uneven floorboard by the door. He pulls a worn down shirt out of the bottom of his suitcase and tugs it on, relishing in the comfort of the soft fabric. He walks back to family room just as John’s putting the last of the paint away and falling onto the sofa in exhaustion. Alex sits down next to him and nudges him, “go get some sleep in your bed.”

John shakes his head, “I saw you could use the bedroom while you’re here, Alexander.”

“I know,” he replies. “But you need it more than I do.”

“I’m fine with the sofa,” he stretches out on the cushions, throwing his legs over Alex’s lap, and closes his eyes.

Alex rests his hands on John’s legs and clears his throat, coming to a conclusion quickly, “we could… share the bed?”

John’s eyes shoot open, “what?”

Alex’s cheeks are burning when he says again, “we could share the bed?”

“You don’t have to do that, Alexander. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” John replies, sitting up with burning cheeks.

“I know that I don’t have to,” Alex assures him. “I want to.”

“Are you sure?” John questions, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Alex nods quickly, “absolutely. Now go get some sleep.”

John stands, “if you come with me.”

“I have work to do, I should stay up longer,” he protests, glancing at the clock.

“You can do it later,” he replies, holding out his hand for Alex to take. “Rest now, work later. It’s late anyway, come on.”

“I don’t know, John,” he thinks back to the papers he has to work on for Theo’s divorce and shakes his head. “I need to stay up and work.”

John shrugs and sits back down, pulling out his sketchbook, “if you’re staying up to work, then I guess I will be too.”

“You need to rest,” Alexander replies, pushing at him lightly.

He shakes his head, “well, I’m not resting alone. Go get your work and we’ll work together.”

‘ _I guess I can just get up after he’s asleep_ ’ he thinks to himself before sighing, “you’re not going to let this go are you?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ and flipping to a black page in his sketchbook. “Go on.”

He rolls his eyes and stands up, “come on then. You need your rest, let’s go to bed.”

John looks up at him and grins, “is the great Alexander giving in so easily?”

“I’m not giving in,” he replies, shrugging, “do you want to sleep or not?”

He tosses the sketchbook on the empty cushion next to him and stands up, “definitely. I’m exhausted, let’s go.” He grabs Alexander’s hand and pulls him, laughing, to the bedroom. Collapsing face first on the bed, dragging Alex with him.

Alex laughs and nudges at his torso, “get the paint stained stuff off, John. Don’t ruin your sheets.”

John throws an arm around Alex, preventing him from moving anymore, “a little paint never hurt anyone.” He curls around the Caribbean man and closes his eyes, “now shh, I’m sleeping.” Just like that, he’s asleep. Breaths even and curls spread across the pillow his head rests on, the pillow being Alex’s chest.

Alex breath almost stops when he looks at the sleeping man. He reaches down slowly and pulls the blankets over them, wrapping his arms hesitantly around him, letting out a relieved sigh when John moves closer to him. He can’t sleep, not because he’s not tired, but because he can’t close his eyes and lose his chance to watch him. He knows he should feel creepy for watching him sleep but the only thing he can do is reach up and gently brush his curls  back from his face, relish the way that John seems to relax more at Alex’s touch. He doesn’t know when he closes his eyes but the next thing he knows, John’s alarm clock is going off and Alex is startling awake.

He turns it off before it can wake John, and carefully gets out of the bed, regretting moving once the chill hits his bare arms. He rushes around the room, changing into a suit and grabbing his briefcase off the floor next to his suitcase. Before he can open the door to the bedroom, John speaks up from the bed, groggy from sleep, “where are you going?”

He jumps and turns around slowly, “I have to go to work.”

John yawns and nods, “okay. Have a good day.” He rolls over and pulls the blankets up to his shoulders.

Alex darts forward and presses a kiss to John’s forehead, “go back to sleep.”

John flashes him a sleepy smile and falls back to sleep as Alex slips on his shoes and leaves the apartment.

Angelica stops him the moment he steps into the office, “We’ve been calling your apartment all weekend. Where were you?”

“The apartment above mine had a water pipe burst and mine was caught in the crossfire,” he said, walking to his desk and sitting his briefcase down.

“That’s terrible,” Angelica replies. “But that doesn’t answer where you’ve been.”

“I’m staying at John’s until it’s fixed and they take care of my floor,” Alex responds, flashing Angelica a smile.

Angelica takes his face in her hands, “Alex… I’m not complaining here but where are the dark circles under your eyes?”

Alex pushes her hands away and rolls his eyes, “It’s been three nights, Ange. They can’t go away that quickly.”

She laughs and nods, “well they’re certainly lighter. Has John been _exhausting_ you?”

“Don’t be so loud,” he hisses, looking around the nearly empty room. “Not like that, he’s just been keeping a close eye on me and making me sleep more. It’s frustrating.”

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, “frustrating that someone cares about you enough to keep an eye on your health?”

“That’s not what I meant. I just… I barely get any work done at ho- his apartment,” Alex replies, wincing at the second time he’s slipped up and prays that Angelica didn’t notice.

Her eyes sparkle with delight at his slip up, “so you view his apartment as home, huh?”

“Angelica, not right now,” he whispers. “Besides, I can’t help it. He feels… safe.”

“You should tell him,” she replies with a smile.

“I can’t and you know why.”

“I don’t,”

He looks down at his hands grasping his chair tightly, “I don’t even know how I feel. I don’t know what _this_ is.”

“Well, that’s a chair,” Angelica replies.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “That’s not what I meant.”

She pats his arm, “I know, honey. Look, I’m not going to pressure you into figuring it out but I think you should. This is hurting you and I’d imagine it’s hurting John as well. You two seem in sync.”

He signs and pulls his hair back into a bun, “maybe.”

“That’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

“You know me so well,” he responds with a laugh, dropping his hands. “I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll do something, one day. Probably.”

She rolls her eyes and throws an arm around his shoulders, “whatever you decide, we’ve got your back. You know who ‘we’ is, so don’t give me that look.”

He holds his hands up, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

When the door to Washington’s office is pulled open and his booming voice is heard, “Hamilton!” Alex shares a glance with Angelica before they both say, “duty calls.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just call me a baker because I'm the queen of fillers.  
> I swear that after this chapter everything will start picking up. I kind of gave up on this story for awhile, I couldn't think of what to write and it didn't feel important. I just... gave up on writing in general? The Valentine's Day story I wrote felt so uncomfortable to write because I didn't feel comfortable writing anymore. But I'm back. I was out of town for a few days, saw Panic at the Disco live, got back on my medicine. I feel more like myself than I have in awhile. So, have no fear, my dears. This story will be back to updating.  
> I love you.  
> Also, I can't figure out how to link things in notes so here's my twitter: @Destiny0kay  
> Let me know what you think!  
> I hope you have a wonderful day/night! <3 :D  
> EDIT: would you all be interested in one shots for this universe? I have backstories for the characters (the Schuyler sisters and how they were adopter by Phillip and Catherine, etc), different moments in the story I didn't go into detail for, moments that happened before the story, things that happened during time jumps. Let me know!!


	18. And A Doctor On Site

Angelica forces Alexander out of the office shortly after seven and ushers him to her car in the back corner of the parking lot.

“Angelica, I have so much work to do,” he protests, trying to break out of her tight grip.

“You have no cases going on now, Alexander. You can go home,” she replies with an eye roll. “Besides, don’t you want to see John?”

Alex’s face heats up, “that’s besides the point. I do have a case to work on.”

She unlocks the car and opens the passenger side door, gesturing for him to go in, “really now? What case?”

He reluctantly sits down, pulling the door shut as she goes around to the driver’s side. “I’m bound by doctor patient confidentiality,” he says when she sits in her seat.

“You’re not a doctor, Alex,” she replies, starting the car.

“Regardless,” he says when they’re pulling out of the parking lot, “I promised her I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Her, huh?”

Alex’s eyes widen, “I’ve said too much.” He should run before he spills anything else. He reaches for the door handle at the next stop light but stops as Angelica says

“if you jump out of this car, so help me, Alexander,  I will run you over.”

He sheepishly places his hands in his lap, “sorry.”

“I’m not going to force you to tell me about it,” she says, turning the steering wheel, “especially if you promised to keep it quiet.”

The rest of the ride’s nearly silent, the only sound is the city around them. When they pull outside of John’s building, Angelica places a hand on his arm.

“I’m not saying that you can’t do it but if you need help.”

“Ask you, I know,” Alex sighs. “Thank you.”

She nods and removes her hand so he can get out of the car. Before he shuts the door, she says, “we’re going suit shopping tomorrow after work!” She pulls the door shut and speeds off before she can protest.

He sighs and shakes his head before turning and making his way into the building. He climbs the stairs slowly, sighing in relief one he reaches John’s and drags his feet down the hall to their apartment. Alex tries the knob and it turns, the door creaking open to reveal a dark apartment. “John?” he calls into the darkness, dropping his briefcase on the floor and removing his coat and shoes. “Are you home?” A pained moan from the living room is his only response and he runs over before he can even form a coherent thought. He falls to his knees in front of the sofa, hesitant to reach out to the figure curled on the cushions.

“John,” he whispers, placing a hand lightly on his arm, “arm you okay?”

John shudders at Alex’s touch, “I’m fine,” he creaks out.

“Can you turn to face me?”

“It’s too bright,” he protests.

“John,” Alex whispers, “no lights are on.”

He’s quiet for so long that Alex thinks he’s asleep but he finally sys, “it hurts to move.”

“Do you need help?”

John coughs, “please.”

“Okay, this might hurt more but I’ll try my best,” Alex says before standing and carefully sliding his arms under the man. “Are you ready?” He waits for John’s confirmation then carefully lifts him, wincing at John’s groan of pain, just enough to lay him on his back. He removes his arms from under him and rests a hand on his cheek, something warm and wet coats his palm, running a thumb gently under his eye. “John? Can you open your eyes?”

“I don’t know if I want to,” he rasps. “Turn the lamp on, please.”

“You just said it was too bright, mon rêve,” Alex responds.

“You’ll want the light on,”  John reaches up and grasps his hand. “Trust me.”

Alex nods and reaches for the lamp, turning it on before looking back at him, gasping in shock at the sight that greets him, “oh my god, John.”

Blood streaks across the side of John’s face, trailing down his neck. There’s so much blood that it’s hard to determine where it started. Blood stains John’s arms and hands, staining Alex’s hands where it’s still resting on John’s cheek. Bruises are blossoming across his body and face and his right eye is swollen and dark purple, almost black like an ink stain.

“It looks worse than it is,” John whispers, busted lip dripping more blood down his chin.

Alex swallows the sob that’s threatening to break free and chokes out, “it looks bad.”

John nods, wincing in pain, and whispers, “worse than it is.”

Alexander knows he needs to do something, needs to do something or else he’ll panic. Needs to feel useful. “Let’s,” he shakes his head, “let’s clean you up and then you’re going to tell me what happened.” He pulls his hand away from John’s face, ignoring the light dimming in his eyes, and walks to the kitchen. He scrubs the blood off his hand, blinking rapidly to avoid tears. When the water runs clear, he dries his hands and grabs the largest bowl from the cabinet, filling it with warm water. He picks up a few cloths and walks back to the living room, places everything on the floor and kneels next to John. “This may hurt,” he murmurs before dipping one of the cloths in the water and begins gently wiping his face.

John lays on the couch silently, the only noises he makes are nearly inaudible groans of pain as Alex works. “You don’t have to do this,” John’s voice cracks as he speaks but he pushes it out. When he doesn’t get a response, he says, “Alexander.” And when Alexander doesn’t answer him again, he slowly reaches up and places his hand against Alex’s cheek, causing the younger the younger man to jump and tears to fill his dark eyes, “oh, cariño, come here.” He gently pulls Alex down and wraps his arms around the shaking man, sharp pain shoots through his body as Alexander rests his head on his chest.

The only sound for some time are Alexander’s sobs as his mind repeatedly flashes to seeing John bloody and bruised on their- his sofa. John’s gently rubbing circles into his back and he knows that he should calm down but every time the tears slow, his brain flashes to John bleeding on the frozen concrete an no one finding him until it’s too late and he just cares about him so much and he can’t die, it’s not fair that John has to die and- oh, he said that out loud.

John’s hand stills against Alex’s back but before Alex can over think it, John’s slowly sitting up and pulling Alexander up next to him. He wraps his arms around the younger man pulls him close, “it’s okay, Alexander. I’m okay.”

Alex presses his face into John’s chest against and takes a deep breath, “I know.” Tears soak into John’s shirt even as he tries stopping them.

“I’m not dying for a long time, I promise,” John says, running a hand gently through Alex’s hair, tugging lightly on the strands to pull him out of his head.

So they sit together quietly, Alex’s struggling to stop the tears while John gently runs a hand through his hair. Until, Alex whispers harshly, “I’ll kill whoever did this.”

John’s eyes widen, “murder’s not necessary.”

Alexander jumps up, frantically apologizing when John hisses in pain, “whoever did this could have killed you, John. I _will **kill them**_.”

“How did you know that I didn’t fall down the stairs?”

Alex stops then raises an eyebrow, “did you fall down the stairs?”

“Well, no,” John shakes his head, “but I could have.”

Alex chuckles slightly and picks up a cloth, dipping it in the colder water and beginning to wipe the blood off again. “Did you get their names?” he asks after a few minutes.

John clears his throat, “no, it’s hard to ask for a name when your mouth’s full of blood.” Alexander flinches and John frowns, “sorry, bad time to say things like that.”

“I don’t think there will ever be a good time,” Alexander mutters before carefully wiping the blood off John’s arms. He gets up and walks to the small bathroom, grabbing a few strips of gauze and tape, walking back to John and gently covering the worst of the cuts scattered across his face and arms. He picks up the bowl and cloths, dumping the water down the sink and tossing the cloths in the garbage can, washing his hands afterwards. “You should probably change,” he mumbles once he sits back down on the sofa.

John sighs and says, “I did have Lafayette and Hercules with me for most of the trip.”

Alex looks up and gestures for him to continue.

John looks down at his hands, “on the way back, I decided it would be safe and convinced them that I’d be okay if they wanted to go home. So they did. When I got to Avenue B, I thought I’d be completely safe. Uh, these guys pull me down this alleyway, cliché I know, and they don’t take anything from me? I just, I offered everything I had and they didn’t take anything?” He holds his head in his hands, “the things they called me, Alexander.” He bites back a sob, “I wouldn’t dare repeat them.” He digs his fingernails into his scalp, “because of my skin,” a harsh angry sob breaks out of his throat, “I begged them to stop. One of them had a knife and,” he shudders, sobs coming freely now and Alexander gathers him in his arms.

“Sshh,” Alex whispers, tightening his arms around John. “You’re safe here. I’ll protect you.”

“How can you be so sure?” John whispers brokenly, finally wrapping his arms around Alex.

“Because I’m here,” he responds.

John snorts, “that doesn’t make me feel so secure.”

“Don’t be an ass, Laurens,” Alex laughs.

John smiles and slowly sits up, wiping at his eyes, “I’m going to change.” He stands up but before he goes to the bedroom, he leans down a presses a kiss to Alexander’s cheek, “thank you, Alexander.” He doesn’t notice Alex’s blush as he turns and walks to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Alex lifts a hand to his cheek, pressing lightly as if it will keep the kiss there as his cheeks burn. “Woah.”

 

The next few weeks pass by without incident; Alex goes suit shopping with Angelica and refuses to let John go anywhere alone. John heals but he can’t quite bring himself to argue with Alex about going places on his own.

Christmas comes and goes, a group affair at the Schuyler’s apartment. Everyone brings what they can and they make do with what they have, the war in Vietnam taking so much energy out of the country. Alex distinctly remembers the looks Eliza kept sending him as he curled up with John on the sofa during the party, music playing softly on Peggy’s record player in the corner. He ignored them but he remembers that she smirked and winked every time he looked over. He remembers Lafayette and Hercules kissing with eggnog mustaches under the mistletoe that Peggy insisted was a tradition. He remembers blushing fiercely when he realizes that John someone winded up under one with him, everyone pretended like they weren’t looking but all groaned when he pressed a kiss to John’s cheek and ran to the other side of the room blushing, while Angelica shook her head disappointed.

When January rolls around and he realizes he hasn’t heard from his landlord, he realizes that he doesn’t want to hear from him. Yet, he picks up the phone in the corner and calls the number ingrained in his memory.

“Hello?” a gruff voice asks from the other end.

“Mr. Paine, I was calling to check on the flooding in my apartment?”

“Apartment number?”

When Alexander gives the apartment number, his eyes widen in surprise when he receives the response.

“Mr. Hamilton, we’ve been trying to contact you for over a week. Your apartment’s done; it’s ready whenever you are.”

He nods, remembers that Paine can’t see him, and clears his throat, “did you call this number?”

“Yes, someone’s been answering and saying that you’ve been busy and you’ll call us back,” his landlord informs him. He hears a faint ding in the background and Paine says, “I must go. Your key will work whenever you come back. Let us know if you have any complaints.”

He hangs up the phone numbly, mind already running through who would do that. His mind settles on John before he can even consider another option. His blood boils at the thought of another person controlling his life, wherever he goes is his decision to make. John has no control over what decisions he can make. Except, when John walks into the apartment ranting about a flier he found taped to his apartment building, Alexander falls into the conversation, his apartment drifting to the back of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit on the shorter side, I'm sorry. But it's also a day early!   
> mon rêve- my dream (french)  
> cariño- dear/darling (spanish) 
> 
> John's keeping secrets!!! Alexander doesn't mind?!   
> I'm so excited for what's coming next, hopefully the next chapter will be much longer and more interesting than these last few!   
> Also, I've been listening to Daveed's music and he's incredibly talented oh my god. I completely recommend it!   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUR_ChqUJbc  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hqxEOSjqRM  
> I hope you're all having a wonderful day/night! You all deserve the best in life! I hope you get your favorite food today or a smile from someone passing on the street (that's a great feeling) or a hug from a loved one (even better). <3   
> @Destiny0kay  
> -Des

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my 1960s AU that no one, except for me, wanted. Will be updated when I can convince myself this was a good idea. I've done quite a bit of research for this over the past few weeks. Let me know what you think! Have a great night/day! :)


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